The Plan
by Catch23North
Summary: Burned by his former employers, Krycek turns to the last person he should trust. M/K UST, but no worse than the show. Mpreg. Originally written as an explanation of why Krycek wasn't in, 'Fight the Future'.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Plan

Rating: T/PG-13

Pairing: Mulder/Krycek UST, but no worse than on the show. Scully+Mulder friendship.

Warnings: Mpreg

Canon/Timeline: Originally written as a way to explain Krycek's absence from the 'Fight the Future' movie. Takes place after 'Foile a Deux', and the beginning of this story replaces the Fifth season finale, 'The End'. Spoilers for 'Tunguska-Terma', 'The Red and the Black' and several other episodes prior to 'Foile a Deux'. Does not count season six, etc.

Written: Winter 1998.

Author's Notes: I still like this piece. I hadn't learned a lot of the tricks I've picked up since, and I was still too shy to write all-out slash, but I like it.

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

"Scully?... Yeah, it's me... could you come over here right away?... well, I was hoping you could tell me. ...I'm at my apartment. Right. Bye," Mulder flipped his phone closed, and took another look at his unexpected guest. Krycek was curled in a pitiful ball on the dark green leather couch, eyes shut against pain that coiled and struck. Krycek had shown up at apartment 42 a couple of minutes ago, looking like hell. He hadn't spoken, except for a whispered one-word acknowledgment,

"Mulder..." before sinking to his knees, jaw set and eyes shut tight. The look that Krycek gave him as he spoke, coupled with his sweat-slicked hair and ashen color, was enough to convince Mulder that his one-time partner and enemy wasn't faking. He was really, really sick. Mulder looked up and down the hallway and, seeing no-one, he looked dawn at Krycek in annoyance.

"Why the hell are you HERE?" he muttered. Krycek made no reply. Cursing, Mulder pulled Krycek inside, and shut the door, locking it after him. "Stupid sonofabitch, you think coming to me is going to HELP you?" Krycek lay where he had been pushed, and didn't give any indication of having heard him. He was holding his stomach, and whispering something in Russian. Mulder sighed disgustedly, and manhandled Krycek over to the couch. And now he had a sick, one-armed, Russian triple agent-assassin curled up in a miserable ball on his couch. Terrific. Mulder dropped into his chair, and leaned his head back to look at Krycek upside-down. Not that he expected Krycek to try anything, but he wasn't taking any chances. He checked his SIG, then rose, crossed to the couch, and frisked his guest for weapons. Krycek had a gun tucked into the back of his jeans, and a black-handled pocketknife in his jacket. Mulder put Krycek's hardware in one of the desk drawers, then waited for Scully. Krycek didn't move much.

* * *

"What's going on?!" demanded Scully, lowering her gun slowly.

"Hey, he just followed me home," replied Mulder, "-he collapsed on my doorstep, and he's been like this ever since. Do you think he's dying?" Scully though she heard a note of hope in Mulder's voice. She shook her head.

"I don't know." She handed her gun to Mulder, and crossed to the couch. An effort to uncurl Krycek proved ineffective. She checked his eyes, pulse, forehead temp.

"He's not faking," she decided. Mulder ran a hand through his hair, and waited for her to continue. "Krycek, I need you to move your arm so that I can try and find out what's wrong with you,."

Krycek made no response.

"Mulder, give me a hand here." Mulder had to use both of his hands against Krycek's one to get it to move. Scully checked Krycek's abdomen and found it free of visible injury. "This fever has got to come down. let's get him into the shower," decided Scully. A cold water shower later, Krycek opened his eyes, shivering. Seeing Scully and Mulder, his breath caught, and his eyes went wide. Then he seemed to remember something, and quieted.

"What's wrong with you, Krycek?" demanded Mulder. Krycek started to laugh, but stopped and winced, slipping from a semi-sitting position to the floor of the shower.

"...Don't know," he looked up at Scully, and sat back up again.

"How did this start?" asked Scully. Krycek looked at something in the air between them, trying to remember.

"I... quit. Old bastard did something... ...when I- -just dumped me someplace... that was last night," he pieced together.

"Mulder, it sounds like he's been poisoned. I think we should take him to a hospital." said Scully.

"No! No hospital... ...dead in two hours," snarled Krycek.

"He's got a point," agreed Mulder, "-want me to carry him down to the car now?" Scully shook her head.

"Just get a couple of blankets together."

Mulder shrugged wistfully, and left. Scully got Krycek out of his wet clothes and toweled him off, checking for the tell-tale dark bruising of internal bleeding, but finding nothing. Krycek was still shivering, and she wrapped him in a dry towel. His eyes, when she met them, were the same as many she'd seen in hospitals: in pain and scared and trying not to think about it.

"Out... please." he said, suddenly. Scully looked at him quizzically, and took a step back. With a last exasperated look in her direction, Krycek turned away from her and threw up in the toilet. Mulder decided he didn't really want to see that, and finished making up the couch.

Krycek was asleep, finally. That had taken some fairly serious chemical help. Scully guessed that if he survived the night, he probably wouldn't die at all. She had done what she could, but without hospital facilities, Krycek was going to make it or not on his own.

So they waited.

Krycek was still there in the morning, and Scully took a blood sample into the FBI toxicology lab, but she couldn't find anything unusual about it. Mulder stayed at his apartment with Krycek, and played Tetris. Scully came back at four with a dinner of Chinese take-out, and absolutely no clue as to what was wrong with Krycek. Krycek was awake and reasonably coherent, though.

"What do you remember?"

"Well, I told the Englishman that I wasn't going to work for him anymore, and he said...um...he said something like, 'sure you won't' or 'we'll see about that'. I got as far as the outer door, but it was locked, and they gassed the room. That's the last thing I remember until the alley."

"How did you get to Mulder's apartment?" asked Scully.

"I went back to my place, but then I got sick. I thought I was dying."

"Hear, hear," murmured Mulder, through a bite of food.

"I came here because I couldn't think of anywhere else that wouldn't automatically get me killed," Krycek finished. Mulder grinned.

"You thought coming here would keep you alive!? As opposed to WHAT?!"

"Anywhere the Englishman would follow me," Krycek looked at Mulder as one predator to another, "-I figured I could count on you to either help me or shoot me, and last night, either one would have been an improvement."

"You're feeling better, then?" cut in Scully.

"A little, but that's probably the drugs," replied Krycek.

* * *

And so it went. Krycek got better, the cause of his illness still a mystery, and Mulder stayed with him, not talking much. He was looking foreword to bringing Krycek in. He was also thinking a lot about Krycek's 'I knew you'd either help me or shoot me' statement. Five days after he showed up, Krycek disappeared. Mulder came out of the bathroom to discover Krycek's absence, and a note with one word on it: 'Thanks'. Mulder crumpled the paper angrily, and, throwing it aside, ran out into the hallway to find it deserted. He made for the exit, and stood shaking on the concrete sidewalk, alone, realizing that Alex Krycek had gotten away... again. When he got up to his apartment, he discovered that Krycek's knife and gun were missing, too.

If there was one thing Krycek was particularly good at, it was disappearing without a trace. Mulder decided that the next time he saw Krycek, he would bring him in, in whatever state he happened to be. Scully wasn't surprised that Krycek had pulled a disappearing act, but she hadn't counted on him trying it so soon. Maybe losing an arm had given him an exceptional pain tolerance. Or maybe he just hadn't been as sick as he looked. Mulder fumed for a couple of days, and then seemed to write off the incident with fairly good grace. Their next case was in California; A body had washed ashore just north of San Francisco, looking like it had been mauled by Robby the robot. In other words, things got back to normal. That lasted about four months.

Scully looked over at the clock: 12:15. Great time for someone to knock, really. It was probably Mulder. She got a robe, and tied on the terry-cloth belt. She padded over to the door, and reached for the lock, but then the knock came again. That was not Mulder's knock. She found her gun, then peered into the peephole. Krycek. She cocked the gun, and unlocked the door. She took aim at where she estimated Krycek's chest would be, and called,

"Open the door."

Krycek did so, paused for a second when he saw the gun, and philosophically decided to ignore it.

"Close the door," Scully instructed.

"O.K..." Krycek closed the door, and leaned on it casually. Scully tossed him a pair of handcuffs. He looked at them as a farmer would look at a shovel.

"To the doorknob. Now," ordered Scully. Krycek knew the drill. He left the cuff on his hand just loose enough to escape if he had to, and secured the other to the doorknob. Scully caught this, and kept the gun trained on him.

"Why are you here?" she asked, suspiciously.

"I need your help again," replied Krycek.

"Why would I help you? You killed my sister, remember?"

"Actually, I didn't. I doubt you believe me, though."

"No. I asked why I should help you," glared Scully, keeping her gun trained between Krycek's eyes. Krycek sighed, and seemed to contemplating something unpleasant.

"I think I have evidence that the aliens you two have been chasing all this time are real."

"What?! I mean, what do you mean, 'you think' you have evidence?" Demanded Scully.

"I mean there's something inside of me that doesn't belong there," said Krycek, "I don't know what it is, but I think the Englishman arranged it as a parting shot. He always was a rotten loser." Scully stared at him for a moment, then noticed that his jacket was zipped up for a change. She tucked her gun into the belt of her robe, then found the phone and dialed, keeping an eye on Krycek as she did so.

"Mulder?...Krycek just showed up. No, he's handcuffed to the door. ...He says someone put something inside him, but he doesn't know what it is... I don't know yet. ...well if he was in enough trouble to come to us for help, he's probably serious. ...that'll be fine." She hung up.

"You went through the black oil and losing an arm without coming to us," stated Scully, "-what's different here?"

Krycek looked down at the carpet, and looked very uncomfortable. He hated even thinking about this.

"It moves," he replied.

"To a different place?" asked Scully. Krycek shook his head.

"No, it just... moves."

* * *

Mulder glared at Krycek from across the room. Scully had made them all coffee. She didn't usually drink coffee in the middle of the night, but it looked like they were going to be up all night anyway. Scully was now examining Krycek, and she had unzipped his jacket and pushed up his T-shirt. Mulder felt momentarily jealous, and took another sip of coffee. Krycek didn't look all that different to him. True, he was looking rounder, but that could be caused by one too many airport hot-dogs. Still, Krycek seemed to be taking this very seriously. Mulder remembered what it was like being infected with the black oil, the subtle but inescapable intrusion, the infestation. It had been one of the most terrifying and violating experiences of his life. Knowing that the enemy you have been tracking so ruthlessly is now inside of you. Krycek knew what that felt like too. No wonder he was running scared over this. Scully completed her examination, and stood up, thinking hard. Krycek pulled his shirt back down, and looked at her searchingly. Scully shook her head, finally.

"I don't know what this is, Krycek. I agree with you that it isn't supposed to be there though, and it's not hard enough to be mechanical. I want to run some tests at the hospital."

"I can't go there," reminded Krycek.

"We'll use the back door," assured Scully, "-besides, it's one in the morning."

"Argue this one... please?" encouraged Mulder. Krycek shut up.

Scully looked up and down the white-walled corridor, and called back,

"It's clear." Mulder brought Krycek, at gunpoint. True, Krycek seemed to co-operating with them for now, but every time Mulder had trusted him in the past had turned out badly. The corridor reminded Mulder of descriptions of the door to the other side as described by people who had near-death experiences: white and clean, and running from almost unlit to bright white fluorescence at the end. They passed through a set of inner doors into the gleaming maze of regular hospital hallways. When Scully walked past the doors to radiology, Mulder asked,

"Scully, where are we taking him?"

"Well, I wanted to find out if the anomaly is alive or not before doing any x-rays. I'm going to do an ultrasound."

"Aww, an ultrasound on a baby alien... and me without my video camera," lamented Mulder. Krycek scowled, but didn't comment. The room where the ultrasound equipment was kept was deserted at this hour, fortunately. Scully did the ultrasound, and made a tape. Whatever had taken up residence in Krycek was most definitely alive. Scully looked at the results critically. Whatever this wee beastie was, it had grown there, and she suspected that the biological crash Krycek had experienced four months ago was an unsuccessful attempt by his body to reject it. She tuned out Mulder and Krycek, who were busy baiting each other, and looked at the data. Slowly, a theory gelled, and it was one that she could test fairly simply.

* * *

About 18 hours later they were still sniping at each other, but Krycek was only playing the game as a distraction. He was worrying about what Scully was going to come back from the lab with.

"Hey Krycek, are you familiar with the works of David Cameron?"

"Fuck off."

They were back at Mulder's apartment, and Krycek wondered briefly what Mulder's reaction would be if he suddenly put an elbow through the fish tank. Probably not good. He wouldn't put it past Mulder to execute him on the spot, for icthiocide. Or for breathing, for that matter. Scully's knock startled him. Mulder got the door, keeping a wary eye on Krycek as he did so. Scully had a businesslike look on her face, and she set down a large brown paper bag on the coffee table on her way in.

"What have you got, Scully?" asked Mulder.

"And is it going to kill me?" added Krycek. Scully shook her head.

"It shouldn't."

"Hell," said Mulder, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"So what is it?" asked Krycek.

"From the tests I just ran, it appears to be human. Half the DNA is yours, and half of it is from an unknown source."

"Waitaminute, WHAT?" broke in Mulder.

"The embryo that was placed inside Krycek is completely Human. No aliens involved, but this is still extremely unusual, medically speaking," Scully replied. Krycek stared at her, mouth slightly open, in mute shock.

"Guess what Krycek, you're going to be a mommy," Mulder offered, brightly.

"I can't do this... I'm an assassin for god's sake!" protested Krycek.

"You're a lot of things, Krycek," observed Scully.

"Why would he?..." Krycek pondered his own internal monologue, and made a few guesses that sounded plausible. The Englishman was displeased when I left, but not the kind of displeased that gets someone out with orders to kill me... if he wanted me dead, he could have killed me after he gassed me. No, he wants me alive and working for him. If I'm really pregnant -god that sounds weird- maybe he thinks that I'll come to him for help and then I'll owe him enough to stay... like hell. Maybe he just didn't have any further use for me, and he needed someone to experiment on, so... no, if that was the case he'd still have me locked up. What does that leave, him trying to slow me down enough so that someone else could kill me? I was his protégée, though. Yeah, maybe he's just trying to force me back. Wouldn't be the first time somebody's done that to me, though this is a new approach. Hmm... maybe he sold me to the people at the cloning labs and THEY did this to me? Idle speculation. I need to get rid of this thing.

Krycek looked up to see that Scully and Mulder had been talking over his head. He listened, hoping they hadn't noticed him coming out of his reverie. Then he decided not to bother, because if they were going to say something they didn't mean him to hear, they knew him well enough not to say it within earshot.

"Okay, let's narrow it down. Who do we know who doesn't wish Krycek great bodily harm?" Mulder was asking. There was a silence.

"That's the problem," offered Krycek, "-Scully, can you help me get rid of this thing?" Scully looked distressed.

"And let you go?" scoffed Mulder, "-in exchange for what?"

"Information."

"That would have to be a pretty good tip, Krycek," said Mulder. Scully leaned over and whispered something in Mulder's ear. Mulder shook his head, smiling. 'No of course not?' No of course not WHAT? wondered Krycek.

"It will be... and I have reason not to cross you on this one," promised Krycek.

"Who does this information belong to?" asked Mulder.

"You'll see," replied Krycek, casually. He had a plan, he had an open door, he had a course set. One that was interrupted by Scully standing in front of the door.

"That's it? You're just letting him go?"

"He'll be back, Scully. He has to. He knows that," Scully looked at Mulder in surprise, and Krycek slipped out past her. She watched him leave for a moment, then back at Mulder in consternation.

"How do you know?"

"As opposed to the alternative? That has to be the number one male fear of all time, Scully. -Especially for somebody like him." Scully quirked an eyebrow. "-Black leather jacket, black jeans, likes waving a large handgun around and playing head games with people? That's not the profile of somebody who'd go Martha Stuart," Mulder finished.

"What if he has somewhere else to go for help with this?" asked Scully.

"He would have gone there first," replied Mulder.

Scully closed the door.

"Sooner or later we have to get around to actually turning him in, you know," she said.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Mulder.

"He always finds a way to get away from us," explained Scully. That 'us' sounded suspiciously like 'you', to Mulder. Probably just his guilty conscience.

"I want him as much as you do, but I'm playing him for all he's worth first," explained Mulder

"If all else fails, you'll still get an X-file out of all this," observed Scully.

"Yup," sighed Mulder.

* * *

Getting in and out of the Englishman's headquarters was too easy. No, Alex corrected himself, It wasn't easy, it just hadn't cost him any skin. Lately, that was as good as he could reasonably hope for. He had the information, in the form of two newly-burned CD-ROMs, tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket, where they burned like a paycheck. He had covered his tracks well, altering the security camera footage from within the Englishman's own computer system, and erasing the information retrieval commands. The computer had no idea anything had been accessed, much less copied. Alex hadn't had a chance to go over the information himself, but he had hidden a copy in a local train station locker. Time enough to go back for it later. The two CD's in his jacket contained only one half of the data each. He would hold the second half of the data back against Mulder trying to turn him in.

So probably, this would work. He could walk away from yet another mess. Alex surveyed his apartment, which was for the moment home, dubiously. It was a room that could have been in any city from Los Angeles to Vladivastok. There was a bed in a corner away from the soaped window, and a rectangular wooden table in the center of the room, covered with portable computer hardware and several backup weapons. The laptop was connected to an improbable socket-cube underneath the table. Maybe this room had once been something else. Krycek locked the door and window carefully, then stripped out of his clothes, including his left arm, and took a long, hot shower. During his time in Russia, Alex had learned to appreciate an abundance of warmth. He toweled off, turned out the lights, and crawled into bed naked. Part of his mind reminded him that this was a pretty stupid thing to do, but the rest was tired, and collectively told it to fuck off. It was gray dawn when he woke, and the sheets clung to him limply with the residual dampness of his shower the day before. The air in Alex's apartment was cold, as would the floor be, and he didn't want to get up. So he didn't. There are certain advantages to being in Alex's line of work.

About two hours later, he was still there, trying to decide when to take the CD to Mulder. The problem was that he felt great for a change. Not completely normal, maybe, but great. When Scully finished with him he'd feel like hell again, and he wasn't looking foreword to it. He'd been working locally in information trafficking, which given his hacking skills wasn't all that hard. It was relatively clean work too, which is to say that it didn't involve any dead bodies. It had necessitated him to move a couple of times, when somebody back-traced him, but that was all part of the job.

As for the deal with Mulder, he knew he was being played, but that was at least easy to understand. He had to make Mulder really WANT the rest of the information. The more Mulder knew about the information on the first CD, the more he'd get curious about the second one. He'd never had Mulder this far over a barrel, but unfortunately, the reverse was also true. He decided to let Mulder mull over the first CD for a while before showing up in person. Let him get hungry. Speaking of food... breakfast sounded like a really great idea. Krycek dressed and left, drawing the shade before walking out. He decided to drop off the CD while Mulder was at work before doing anything else, though. Somewhere between his apartment and Mulder's however, he got to thinking about a concession stand in times square station that had excellent Pirogi. It was the sort of place you can pass every day for twenty years and only notice when it's gone. As far as he knew though, it was still there. New York would be cold this time of year, as would Moscow. Maybe he should disappear for a while after he gave Mulder the CD. Somewhere cold, with excellent Pirogi...

Waitaminute. I'm going to New York because I want a Pirogi? Well... I'm also lying low for a while anyway. Why the hell not?

Alex slid a white envelope under Mulder's door, containing the first CD, and bearing a handwritten, 'I'll call you' on the outside. At about one o'clock that afternoon, Krycek stepped off a train onto a platform in New York. Yuri was still there.

* * *

Mulder turned the light on and looked around warily before retrieving the envelope on the floor. It was white and unadorned, save for the words 'I'll call you' written on the side in felt-tip pen. Mulder closed and locked the door, then opened the envelope carefully. Inside was a CD, gleaming golden. Mulder let his coat fend for itself on the couch, and brought up the contents of the CD on his computer. There were files, thousands of them, most designated by a first and last name, and a number. All the named files from A to M were there, but the rest of the alphabet was missing. Mulder skipped to the end of the list, and found six more files, one of them encrypted. None of the decryption programs he already had would work on it though, so he decided to leave it for later and see what was in the other five. The first was a list of pharmaceutical equipment and chemical requisitions. It didn't say where they were to be delivered to, though. The second was a lab use timesheet. The third was a murky and indiscernible picture, that took up most of the screen to display. Mulder studied it intensely, discovered a repeating, seemingly random pattern in the dirty swirls, and concluded that it was a picture someone had made into a fractal. Another encryption.

"What's next Krycek, a crossword puzzle?" Mulder asked the screen. He clicked on the fourth file, but as he did so, something caught his eye. He exited quickly, and looked at the main list again. Towards the end of the M's there were two files, one just below the other:

Mulder, Fox #00004913805

Mulder, Samantha #00003839064

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them eagerly. He opened Samantha's file.

He was still staring, reading, absorbing the data he had discovered, when Scully knocked on his door the next morning.

* * *

"Mulder? Are you in there?" Mulder leaned back and rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah... hold on..." Mulder stretched, then got up and let Scully in. She took one look at his face, and deduced,

"You've been up all night?" Mulder nodded, and indicated the computer with a hand.

"Krycek came through. Big time. I don't know what he got this from, but it's going to be pissed."

"Where is Krycek now?" asked Scully. Mulder pointed to the envelope.

"I haven't the faintest. Maybe when you do the operation on him, you should put a tracer in."

"Not a bad idea," Scully had a look at the files on Mulder's computer.

"They have a file on you here, I wonder if they have- -hey, everything below 'M' is missing..." -And her file with it. Scully opened Mulder's file, and found it disturbingly complete. They had his medical history from the day he was born, and moreover, they had his address. She went back to the file directory and scrolled upwards. Mulder called from the kitchen,

"You want some coffee?"

"Sure, thanks." she called back to him. Mulder came back with a mug of coffee for Scully and a tumbler of orange juice. He handed her the steaming mug, and took a seat on end of the coffee table, elbows on knees.

"Here we go... I think I've figured out what this is," said Scully.

"What?"

"Remember the cloning labs? I think these are copies of the files they have."

"That would explain Samantha's," agreed Mulder, tiredly.

"And why they keep medical histories on these people, but..." Scully trailed off.

"Scully?"

"If you're still holding that cup, put it down, and then come take a look at this." said Scully. Mulder found himself looking at Krycek's file. It looked a lot like his own file, but right at the end of Krycek's medical history, there were a couple of screens about 'Experiment X1' dated four months ago.

"He stole this from the same people who played doctor on him." observed Mulder.

"Look at the bottom of the screen." said Scully. It read,

"DNA source list

Alex Krycek

Fox Mulder"

There was a long pause.

"Scully, did you just type that?"

"No."

"Oh, shit..." Mulder scrolled back up to the top of Krycek's file, and looked for an address. There were several, but only one in the D.C. area. There was also a phone number, but nobody picked up. Mulder wrote down the address, ejected the CD, and slipped it into first a clear plastic case, and then his trench coat's deepest inner pocket. Scully had another look at Krycek's file.

"Are you coming?" asked Mulder, tugging on his coat.

* * *

Rain beaded on the surface of the passenger side window, and slid down to the black rubber seal separating the window from the rest of the door. Scully was driving. Mulder had no idea what he was going to say to Krycek when he found him, but he did know that he had to find him soon. This day had the familiar bad-dream quality that characterized his least pleasant adventures. The ones that were still there when he woke up. Alex Krycek... there was a loaded name. Partner, friend, betrayer, murderer, triple agent, clever, occasionally considerate, ruthless, seriously but never quite fatally unlucky, Alex Krycek. Until recently, Mulder had a way of dealing with Krycek that worked pretty much of the time: beat the shit out of him and watch him like a hawk. Then Krycek had ambushed him, told him about the alien civil war, kissed him, and handed him a loaded gun. That had been a very weird experience, and one that he hadn't completely absorbed when Krycek had shown up four months ago. Let alone now.

Krycek's apartment was empty, except for a gun and a laptop on the table. Mulder checked in the bathroom, and found a slightly damp towel. He'd been here recently. Scully tried to see what was on the laptop, but when she turned it on, a digital timer appeared in the corner of the screen, counting down from ten...

nine...

eight... Scully turned off the power hurriedly, and bolted for the door in case that didn't work.

"Get out Mulder, now!" At the opposite end of the hallway, and around a corner, Scully checked her watch, and saw that the ten seconds would be up- -now. Mulder and Scully covered their ears just in time, as a pressure-wave of concussive sound and dislodged plaster blasted past them. Scully picked a few pieces of plaster out of her hair dubiously, and Mulder looked down the corridor they had just fled down, now filled with dust and a harsh chemical tang. The door to Krycek's apartment had been blown off it's top two hinges, and it hung out into the hallway at a precarious 45-degree angle by it's third. Pieces of the splintered frame had imbedded themselves in the opposite wall like porcupine quills. Numerous cries of alarm and consternation sounded as the people living in the other rooms alternately hid and came out to see what had happened. Someone called the fire department. Mulder called Skinner and explained that they had located Krycek's apartment, but that it was now totaled. Skinner was not amused, but he was glad they were OK. Krycek had vanished without a trace.

* * *

Icicles hung from the fire escapes, and from the concrete eves, and dirty snow was piled up here and there in the gutters. Everyone on the sidewalk was bundled into heavy coats and sweaters, but most people had the sense to either stay home or drive. On the ice at Rockefeller center, people of all mittened description sailed past, skate blades glinting and glittering as they moved. Krycek watched them from the edge of the rink, black-gloved hand in the right pocket of his jacket. He watched an older man with a stocking cap skate competently past a group of younger skaters, hands clasped behind his back. That guy wasn't local, Alex guessed. There was a girl, about fifteen, passing hand in hand with a boy of the same age. Her clothes smelled of money. Then there was a woman with long brown hair and a green jacket, alone. When another skater passed her, she looked up at him just a little too quickly... too warily. She stayed alone for a reason, Alex guessed. Alex left the center, and walked until he found a payphone. He held the receiver to his ear with his shoulder, dropped a couple of quarters in, and dialed the number for Mulder's office phone. It rang once.

"Mulder."

"Hi," said Alex.

"Krycek?! Where the hell have you been?"

"Out of town," Alex didn't elaborate, "-what do you think of the information I gave you?"

"It's good. Why didn't you tell me, Krycek?" asked Mulder.

"Because I thought you wanted to figure it out on your own," shrugged Alex, "-I assume you want the rest of it?"

"There's more?... You mean the files," realized Mulder.

"Yeah, I mean the files, what were you talking about?" demanded Alex. There was a long silence.

"Mulder?..." growled Krycek.

"You don't know what was on those files you gave me, do you?" said Mulder.

"Of course I know," retorted Krycek, "-it's a copy of-" he shut up abruptly, realizing that Mulder might not know. He wasn't going to give Mulder any more information than he had to. "-You know where it's from."

"Yeah, I'm just surprised you left in your file when you made me the copy," said Mulder.

"Nice try, they don't HAVE a file on me."

"They do now," said Mulder.

"Whatever. How soon can you help me?" asked Krycek.

"Are you in town?"

"No."

"We're going up to Michigan tomorrow on a case. Can you meet us there?"

"My apartment's in D.C.," Objected Krycek.

"Uh, not anymore."

"What!? You son of a bitch, you blew up my computer, didn't you?!" snarled Krycek.

"You're the one who wired it with a self-destruct," countered Mulder.

"How did you find my apartment in the first place?" asked Alex.

"It was in your file," replied Mulder. Krycek swore vehemently in Russian and asked,

"Where in Michigan?" Mulder gave him the address.

"Make sure you're not followed," Mulder reminded him.

"I've been moving around for three weeks, Mulder. Nobody's following me."

"All the same-"

"Shut up. I'll see you in Michigan."

"Wait-!" Krycek hung up.

"Damn. Did you get the trace, Scully?" asked Mulder, putting the receiver back.

"Yes, but I don't think it's going to be much use," she told him, "-it's a payphone a few blocks from Rockefeller center in New York."

"In other words, 'poof'."

"Yes," Scully wrote down the address anyway, then looked at Mulder. "-You didn't tell him."

"He hung up!"

"I guess it won't matter," Scully's eyes were sad, "-but I would have preferred to do this sooner, if at all. If I didn't think his condition would kill both of them, untreated, I wouldn't be going along with this at all."

Scully gathered up some of the papers strewn across Mulder's desk, replaced them in a manila folder. She paused.

"What about you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah..." Scully waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"-But?"

Mulder looked up, and made eye contact.

"I've just been feeling a lot like my father lately."

* * *

The rendezvous was a bed and breakfast on the shores of lake Michigan. Krycek got there four hours early, and made sure no-one was skulking around except him. He parked in back, a nondescript blue car he'd rented in Canada, and got a room on the lakeside branch of the building. Krycek had no idea when Mulder and Scully would show up, so he went to the motel's diner and got breakfast. The diner consisted of six booths and a bar, topped with sand colored linoleum. This early in the morning, the diner was empty except for a couple of long-distance truckers.

"'Morning," one of them grunted at him. He was surprised, but didn't let it show.

"Good morning," he said back. People usually pegged him as trouble and avoided him, but the truckers had acted as if he was nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe I forgot to put on my 'dangerous killer' look this morning, Krycek mused. Or maybe being round in the stomach makes you look less dangerous. Trying not to feel embarrassed, Alex found a booth with a view of the front motel parking lot, and ordered a continental. Embarrassed or not, he really was hungry. When he finished breakfast, Krycek got a newspaper and a cup of coffee, paid the waitress, and waited. Scully's car pulled into the lot around 11:00, and Krycek watched them check into adjoining rooms facing the road. Timing was everything.

Scully got the door. Mulder didn't quite go for his gun, but it took a conscious effort.

"Come in," said Scully. Krycek did so, and closed the door. Mulder hadn't said anything yet, and this struck Alex as odd. He looked at Mulder curiously. Mulder's emotions were deciding between nitro and glycerin but hadn't quite made up their minds yet. On the one hand, he wanted Krycek dead or hurting, and on the other, he wanted to... protect him? Interview him? He decided to stick to business until things sorted themselves out.

"Did you bring the disk?" Mulder asked.

"You get the disk when I'm out of here," said Krycek, "-besides, what I already gave you should be worth this," Scully and Mulder exchanged glances. Krycek was right, but that didn't matter. Scully cleared her throat.

"Do you have a place to recover? This won't be a procedure you can just walk away from," cautioned Scully.

"Yes," Alex nodded once. He didn't like the sound of this.

"Could you take me there?" asked Scully.

"Do you need to know?" countered Alex.

"Mr. Krycek, I don't think you should be moved for at least a couple of days after I do this, so we need to actually do the operation wherever you're planning on recovering. -If it's clean enough to chance it, that is," She added.

"What, exactly, are you going to do to me?!" Demanded Krycek.

"As little as I have to, but you are almost five months pregnant," Scully replied. Mulder crossed to the door, and opened it.

"Where are you going?" asked Krycek, suspiciously. Mulder half turned, and looked back at him.

"I'm going to go and pretend to be working on the case we were sent up here to deal with."

"Wait a minute," said Scully, "-while you're out, could you pick up the things on this list?" she wrote something on a piece of the motel's note paper, and gave it to Mulder. Mulder mumbled,

"Sure," and left. Half the tension in the room went with him. Scully turned to Krycek, and tried to think of him only as a patient.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Well enough that this isn't going to kill me." Krycek replied.

"That's not what I asked."

"What difference does it make? I'm going to feel like shit tomorrow anyway," said Krycek.

"This isn't an interrogation. I'm a doctor, and I'm just trying to make sure you're not sick before I do this operation," Explained Scully.

"How professional of you," Krycek paused, "-I feel fine, though."

"That's good. I'd like to see where you're planning to stay. We can take my car."

"Actually, I rented a room around back. Will that work?" asked Alex.

"I hope so," Said Scully.

* * *

Mulder had a bad feeling about all this. The case they were supposed to be working on was definitely strange, but thankfully didn't involve any dead bodies. He could cover for Scully on this one. The case wasn't the problem. The problem was Krycek. Mulder wondered if the only reason that Scully was going along with the idea of an abortion was the probability that Krycek would end up dead, and the baby with him, if she didn't do it. The mission of a doctor was the preservation of life and health. Krycek had looked so different standing there... like he wasn't 'Krycek' at all. Except that he was still Krycek, and would be back to his usual deadly, treacherous self within a month. Mulder unfolded the list Scully had given him, and read it while waiting for the light to change.

"Liquid bleach, plastic sheet, 3 rolls of paper towels..."

Great. This looked like being one of the messiest things he'd ever been party to. And he was party to it. More even than Scully. He hated it. His father had sacrificed one of his children to... what? The truth? The concealment of the truth? Survival? Or had it simply been a deal, like this one? Mulder had always hated his father for doing that. He already hated Alex Krycek. Would he hate himself as well?

BLAM!!

Mulder was momentarily deafened by the noise of the airbag that had just deployed in his face. The car had stopped moving, and Mulder could smell gunpowder and fried wiring. Then he got a bloody nose and he couldn't smell anything. Mulder unbuckled his seat belt, and climbed shakily out of the car... Scully's car. Shit. The driver of the other car, a man with a gray mustache and a cowboy hat, had also gotten out, and was yelling at him, but it didn't make sense for some reason. None of it. A highway patrolman stopped to assist, asked him if he was hurt. Mulder shook his head. The highway patrolman gave Mulder a handful of Kleenex, and called in the accident. Mulder wiped his nose with the Kleenex, and was impressed by how much blood came away on them. Then he looked down at the front of his shirt and discovered that it was soaked with the stuff, as was his tie. Great.

* * *

Scully inspected Krycek's room carefully, with an eye for anything that looked dirty. Aside from Krycek's jacket and boots, everything looked pretty clean. Krycek, who was looking out the window, suddenly grabbed her arm and announced,

"We're leaving."

"What's wrong?" Scully asked.

"C'mon, NOW!" Alex ran out the door and down to his car, Scully in tow. Scully saw three men get out of a black Buick, and start running towards them. Alex ducked behind his car, and pulled his gun. He popped up for a second, and fired four times, downing two of the approaching men, and then ducked back down. Scully accounted for the third, and

Alex got in and started the car.

"Will you get in?" he shouted at Scully. She did so, and Krycek peeled out, then braked suddenly when he saw a large black van enter the Motel parking lot. The exit was blocked by the Buick. Krycek swore, and put the car into reverse, but there was no way out of the back parking lot, just a row of trees on the left, a robust-looking fence on the right, and a dock jutting off the lakeshore. Krycek drove up to the dock, stopped, and made for one of the boats at the end of the dock on foot. Scully followed him. The boat Krycek chose was white with blue trim, and had a serious outboard motor. The van stopped by Krycek's car and what looked like an unmarked six-man swat team piled out, racing down the dock towards them. Scully started the motor, and Krycek cast off, then began firing at their pursuit. He caught one in the face and another in the shoulder, but the rest were gaining, and firing at them as they ran. The boat lurched, and began racing away from the dock. Some of the guys from the van were getting into the second boat to continue the pursuit, but Krycek got a shot into the fuel tank and the second boat went up in an impressive ball of flame. Scully steered their boat out onto the open gray water of lake Michigan.

-tbc-

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

Mulder's cell phone rang. He wiped his bloody hand on the tail of his shirt, and answered it.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me," Scully answered. There was background noise that Mulder couldn't identify, but it sounded like an engine of some kind.

"Where are you?"

"I'm on a powerboat. Krycek and I were just ambushed back at the motel by what looked like someone's private army. He thinks they were working for the consortium, but it looks like we're safe for the time being. Can you meet us-"

"Don't!" Krycek's voice in the background sounded very insistent.

"What?-" began Scully.

"Your phones are bugged. They know where you are and what you're saying."

"How does he know that?" asked Mulder.

"How do you know?" asked Scully.

"I bugged them," replied Krycek.

"Okay. Mulder, I'll call you from a landline when we dock," said Scully.

"I'll be at the place we passed on our way into town, the one you made a joke about..."

"The duck joke?" asked Scully.

"Yeah."

"I know where you mean. Make sure you don't have a tail, though, they must have followed us to the motel, and they might still be following you."

"Got it... are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mulder," replied Scully.

"What about Krycek?"

"He looks okay," said Scully.

"Um, Scully..." Began Mulder.

"Yes?"

"I crashed your car."

"Are you hurt?" asked Scully.

"No, but my tie will never be the same," replied Mulder.

"I'll call you when we get to shore."

Scully pressed 'end' and Krycek took the phone away from her, then threw it overhand out into the lake. It sailed through the air and landed with a 'scplish' somewhere off the starboard bow. Scully looked at him.

"It was bugged, remember?" said Krycek. Scully sighed, and nodded.

* * *

Water surrounded them. It was overcast, and a light mist clung to the lake's mirrored surface. It was also biting cold. Scully was steering the boat, and Krycek was sitting in the bow, facing her. He didn't seem to mind the cold much, he just turned the collar of his jacket up and put his hand in the right pocket. Scully was freezing.

"Krycek, could you see if there's a blanket or something in that locker under the thwart?" asked Scully. Krycek had no idea what a thwart was, but he saw a locker under his seat. It yielded a coil of black and orange rope, three lifejackets, a first-aid kit, and a Tupperware tub of navigational equipment with a map of the great lakes. There was a space blanket in the first-aid kit, and Alex gave it to her. Scully thanked him, and Alex took a turn at the tiller while she had a look at the map. There were several towns and harbors across the lake, and Scully thought it would be safer to head for one of those than to double back. Of course heading for a harbor might not be such a good idea either. She took a reading from the compass, looked at the distant shoreline in front of them, and put on one of the lifejackets. It was warmer than just her suit's jacket. She took the tiller again, and changed their course, bearing to the North a few degrees. Krycek looked like hell, and he had taken a seat down in the bottom of the boat.

"Are you okay down there?" Scully asked him.

"I don't think running was such a good idea," Krycek replied. Something inside him hurt, like the kind of cramp you get from running after drinking too much water. He counted to twenty, then fifty, as it faded. When he felt somewhat better, he asked Scully where they were going.

"It's a beach about half a mile from Saugatuck. I thought we could leave the boat there and walk into town without drawing any attention," She looked him over, concerned. "-Do you think you can do that?"

"Yeah, as long as we don't have to run anywhere," Krycek answered. He took out his gun, and held it expertly between his knees as he checked it over, one-handed. He re-loaded the clip, clicked it into place, and put the gun back in it's holster.

* * *

A pile of sunflower seed hulls was accumulating on the table in front of him. Mulder wondered if people could track him by following those sunflower seeds, the same way you could tell where the cigarette-smoking man had been by the cigarette butts. At least Sunflower seeds didn't give you cancer. There were enough things that did that running around loose as it was. Scully still hadn't called. The 'Rockin' Robin' was mostly full from the tail end of the lunch rush, and no-one noticed him, sitting alone at a booth near the front counter. He had called Skinner, explained what he could without mentioning that Krycek was pregnant, and then called a cab. He left his cell-phone in the glove compartment of Scully's car, which had since been towed to a garage. Mulder shelled another sunflower seed, and waited.

Restaurants are comfortable places to wait for a call, but they feel better still if you've just crossed Lake Michigan on the brink of winter. Scully and Krycek found a table away from the door, and Scully went to look for a phone. Alex ordered hot tea, and a coffee for Scully, and fell asleep with his head on his arms. Scully found a payphone next to the bathrooms and dialed 411. She got the number for the 'Rockin'Robin', and had it connected. When she told the head waitress who she wanted to talk to, the head waitress said,

"Thank god you called. Mr. Mulder's been picking apart sunflower seeds for three hours, and I think he's scaring the other customers."

"Yes, that's him," confirmed Scully, "-could I speak with him?"

The head waitress got Mulder.

"Scully? Where are you?"

"I'm in a cafe in Saugatuck, across the lake from you. We're safe for the time being, but could you come and pick us up?"

"Yeah, where are you exactly?" asked Mulder.

"The um... Sunrise Cafe. It's about three blocks from the water. Do you want me to get a street name?"

"No, I'll find it."

"Do you want to talk to Krycek?" asked Scully.

"Why?"

"Why aren't you telling him what I found in his file?" asked Scully.

"Why haven't you?" pointed out Mulder.

Scully said nothing.

"Look, he's just getting rid of it anyway, why should I give him the satisfaction of knowing it's mine?" Mulder asked.

"I don't think it would be like that, but you might have a point."

"I called Skinner, and he sent a team to the motel to see what we can find out about the men who tried to kill you."

"That's good. Tell the owner of the motel that we left his boat on the beach North of Saugatuck," said Scully.

"I'll do that. -And I'll see you sometime early tomorrow morning," said Mulder.

"See you then."

"Bye Scully."

* * *

Scully hung up the receiver and went back to their table. Krycek was slumped over the table, and for a moment's panic, Scully thought he had been shot. There were no holes in his jacket, though.

"Krycek?" Scully shook his shoulder. Krycek was immediately awake.

"What?..." he looked around quickly, scanning for enemies.

"There isn't any danger, you just fell asleep," she reassured him. Alex rubbed his eyes, and folded his arms on the table in front of him, using the right to position the left. He was very good: if she hadn't known about his arm, she probably wouldn't have caught that. The hot drinks arrived, and Krycek put his fingers around the mug of tea, to warm them. Scully added cream and sugar to her coffee, and let it warm her from the inside out.

After a while, they both began to felt better. Outside the cafe's front window, the sun set, and the windows became polarized from the darkness outside. Scully bought dinner, and they waited. And waited. And then the cafe closed. They moved to a picnic table out in front of the cafe, and Scully decided,

"Next time I go anywhere with you, I'm bringing a coat." Krycek nodded his agreement, then noticed a bar down the road about half a block, that was open.

"We could wait in there," he suggested.

"No, it's going to be hard enough for Mulder to find us as it is. We should stay near the cafe."

"Whatever," Krycek shrugged.

They sat in silence for a while, and then Alex felt something inside him move. It scared him less now than the first few times it had happened, mostly because he knew it wasn't an alien, but it still wasn't something he wanted to dwell on. Again... this time it was a gentle push. He got up and started pacing. Moving around made it stop sometimes. He willed Scully not to ask him any questions.

"Where are you going, Krycek?" asked Scully.

God hates me, Alex thought.

"I'm pacing. It's cold," snapped Krycek.

"You're telling me," agreed Scully.

"Why don't you go down and wait in that bar, and I'll keep watch for Mulder?" offered Krycek. Scully looked at him dubiously. "-You don't trust me," Observed Krycek.

"No, I don't," answered Scully truthfully, "-but I am freezing," she took an old receipt out of her pocket, and wrote,

'We got cold, so we're going to wait in the bar down the street. -Starbuck'

Scully weighted the note with a fist-sized rock, and left it on the picnic table.

"Shall we go?"

* * *

The bar was dimly lit, and the walls were done in wooden paneling. Boat tackle was draped here and there on the walls, and wound around the beams holding up the glasses rack over the bar itself. Krycek wondered if the tackle had ever been used by a drunk to keep from falling down on the way to the door. Probably. There were three guys dressed in sea-gear over by the bar, and a young couple necking in the corner. Scully was far overdressed for the place, but had the good grace not to notice. The bartender had with two earrings in each ear and a hair-metal T-shirt. Krycek guessed that it was the young man's parents who actually owned the place. They took seats at the bar, luxuriating in the warmth of the room, at least as far as temperature went. None of the boatmen did more than note their arrival and pointedly ignore them.

"What'll you have?" the bartender asked, kindly.

"Do you have hot chocolate?" asked Scully. The boatmen stopped talking and watched her.

"Uh... yeah, I think so," answered the barman, sounding a little puzzled. He drew her a cup of hot water, and poured the contents of a hot chocolate packet into it. He handed the cup to her, then remembered the spoon and got her one.

"Thanks," said Scully.

"So... are you folks staying here in town?" asked the barman. One of the boatmen rolled his eyes at the barman's question, but none of them commented.

"No, actually, we were just waiting for a friend of ours, but he's late," Mulder wasn't actually late, but it seemed like as good an explanation as any of why they were getting picked up in a strange town after midnight. "-He didn't want to come on the boat, so he drove around," she added.

"No sea-legs, eh?" commented one of the boatmen. Scully shook her head, smiling. He chuckled at her answer. Krycek listened to the conversation, and it soon became clear that Scully knew quite a bit about boats. The boatmen turned out to be captain Gary Rikks of the 'Goldie', and his crew, Lawrence and Jean. Jean was Canadian, and Lawrence revealed that the ship had been named after Goldie Hawn, upon which he was elbowed by Gary. Alex was content to watch the drama unfold, but during a lull in the conversation, Captain Rikks pinned him with his eyes, and asked,

"So who are you?"

"Alan Fisher," replied Krycek without blinking, and offered his hand to the Captain. Captain Rikks shook it, and seemed to be satisfied with this. Scully made a mental note to ask him who Alan Fisher was.

* * *

Mulder opened the door, and saw Scully sitting in a dim, smoky bar, talking animatedly with a group of locals. Krycek was watching, but he noticed Mulder immediately, as did one of the men Scully was talking to.

"Are you the one who stranded Dana, here?" Captain Rikks called over to him. Mulder blinked. Play along.

"I got hung up in Chicago," explained Mulder.

"Thanks for coming," said Scully. She looked like she really meant it. Mulder kissed her forehead, and asked,

"Are you ready to go, honey?"

"Uh, yeah," she turned to the crew of the 'Goldie', "-bye, guys, it's been nice talking to you." They bid her farewell, and captain Rikks added,

"See you around, Alan."

"Who knows?" said Krycek. They left.

When the car was in motion, Mulder asked,

"'Alan'?"

"That's what it says on my driver's license," said Krycek, "-you don't think I make a habit of slinging my real name around in front of strangers, do you?"

"So Alex Krycek is your real name," deduced Mulder.

"You can think that," shrugged Alex.

"I don't know about you two, but I'm dead on my feet," announced Scully, "-where are we going, Mulder?"

"I don't know yet."

"Let's go to Canada," suggested Krycek.

Mulder saw a sign for a motel, and turned off.

"Are you nuts?" protested Krycek, "-they're probably still looking for us."

"I got rid of my phone, and this is a rental car, and nobody's following us. Unless something else is bugged, we should be relatively safe for now."

"If they find us, I hope they shoot you first," said Krycek, without much malice.

* * *

Mulder woke up first. He slid out of bed carefully, to avoid awakening Scully, who was asleep with her back to him. He crossed the room, and slouched into an easy chair next to the phone. He wanted his cell-phone. Mulder got a piece of paper, and began making notes to himself. Sunlight had snuck into the room sometime earlier that morning, and the air smelled warm and too dry. Last night it had been dark, save for a small bedside lamp. Too dark to see much detail. Mulder had elected to share a bed with Scully rather than Krycek, since the room they got had two doubles. As little as he trusted the man, he was fairly sure that Krycek wouldn't leave, or attack them in the middle of the night. It wasn't in his best interest. Krycek was still asleep, and Mulder remembered the sound of Krycek's breathing when he slept. That sound had been inked deep into his memory in Tunguska, lying in a cold prison cell. Krycek didn't snore, but the sound of his breathing while he slept was deeper, somehow.

Mulder put the pen down, and padded over to Krycek's bed. He stopped four feet away, and looked into Krycek's face. He looked stressed, and exhausted, and about twenty years old. What was it about sleep that altered a person's apparent age? Guess nobody will ever know exactly how old I am, thought Mulder, smiling. Mulder sat on his heels, and watched Krycek. Krycek was lying on his left side, right arm draped around his stomach in a gesture that could be either self-conscious or protective. Krycek protected things poorly, from secrets, to his own body. He always did just well enough to stay alive, though. Mulder watched Krycek's face for a long time.

Mulder had to blow his nose after a while, and he got a Kleenex from the bathroom. His sinuses had a fair amount of dried blood in them from his nosebleed the day before, and the bits felt sharp and painful when he sneezed them out. He threw away the Kleenex, stuffed a fresh one in his pocket, and went back to the chair by the phone. Nothing came to him to write down, though.

* * *

A couple hours later, Scully sat up sleepily, and looked around the room. She noticed Mulder, who was watching her amiably from a chair in the corner. He waved, but didn't speak. He was trying not to wake up Krycek, she realized. That was interesting. She got up and used the bathroom, then joined Mulder.

"Morning, Scully," Mulder whispered to her.

"Hi," she whispered back. Her voice was upbraided by sleep.

"Where do you think we should go today?" asked Mulder.

"Either we keep running or we find someplace relatively safe," said Scully, "-personally, I think we should go back to D.C."

"What about Krycek?" objected Mulder. Scully rubbed her face with her palms.

"I don't know, Mulder. I was barely willing to chance operating on him when we had a safe haven and I had all the necessary instruments and equipment. As things stand now, it's too risky."

"I doubt he's going to accept that," said Mulder.

"Mulder, I am a doctor, and as such I am sworn to do my best not to harm or needlessly endanger any of my patients. I can't operate on him if I think it's going to kill him, and in this case, I think it might," Scully explained.

"What happens in four months?" asked Mulder, quietly.

"Hopefully we will have worked something out by then," replied Scully, "-what I do know, is that I can't do a procedure like this one in the rough."

Mulder took a long breath, then sighed.

"-Okay."

* * *

Alex woke up feeling like shit. His muscles were stiff, he was sick to his stomach, and his back hurt. He'd also slept in all of his clothes except for his jacket, and they smelled like unlaundered Alex. He wanted a piss, a shower, a change of clothes, and four more hours of sleep. Krycek looked around the room, and saw that Scully was on the phone with someone, and Mulder was channel surfing. Alex locked himself in the bathroom, used the facilities, and washed his face in the sink. That woke him up a bit, and washed the sand out of his eyes. He took his shirt and arm off, and washed up a bit more.

Looking in the mirror over the sink, Alex noted that he should probably shave at some point, too. Independent of his wishes, his eyes told him what the rest of his body looked like from the waist up. He was... ugly. Krycek had been proud of his looks before he lost his arm, had in fact taken the way people reacted to him for granted, which he found out about later. His left arm basically wasn't there anymore, and the rest of him... his face was the same, and his chest and right arm were good, and below that... He wanted to look away, but he couldn't do it. Krycek stood frozen, taking in the full impact of what he now looked like. Then he snapped out of it, and turned away from the mirror. He put his arm back on, adjusting the straps carefully, then pulled his black, long sleeve shirt over his head, and guided his left arm into it's sleeve with his right hand. He put his right arm into it's sleeve, and adjusted his shirt. He didn't look so bad now, but he remembered what he looked like underneath that. Krycek still felt kind of sick, but he thought he would be okay as long as Scully didn't start describing what she was going to do to him in detail. He left the bathroom in search of his jacket. Scully and Mulder looked up at him when he stepped into the bedroom. Their eyes felt like a humiliating sunburn.

"What?" demanded Alex.

"Um, nothing... you're up?" said Scully.

"We need to talk, Krycek," said Mulder. Krycek sat casually on the edge of one of the bed, and shrugged into his jacket.

"What about?" he asked. Mulder and Scully exchanged glances.

"I don't think it's safe to do the procedure under these conditions," Scully began, cutting to the chase.

"You are NOT backing out on me!" snarled Krycek.

"No, I'm not," agreed Scully, "-but I don't think it would be safe to operate on you until we find a cleaner place, the right tools and antibiotics, and we're sure nobody's going to drive up and start shooting."

"Well, this... this... I should have expected this," Alex laughed humorlessly, "-let me tell you something. You two are not the only people who can help me out with this, you're just the ones I thought came with the fewest strings. If you're not going to do this, tell me now, and stop fucking around!" Krycek's gun was in his hand and had it on Scully before either of the FBI agents noticed that he was going for it.

"Put it away, Krycek. She's just trying not to get you killed before you can tell us where the other disk is," growled Mulder. Mulder was cursing himself for not having anticipated this.

Alex eased up on the trigger a little, but kept the gun trained on Scully. He thought that Mulder would take that more seriously than any personal threat. He was right.

"Krycek, I-" began Mulder

"Tell me something I don't already know," interrupted Krycek. Mulder swallowed, and went for it.

"I found out who the baby's father is. It was in your file."

"I thought you said it was ME!" a look of panic crossed Alex's face. He was on his feet now, "-who is he, Mulder?"

"Put your gun down first, okay?" Said Mulder.

"No," Krycek shot back, "-YOU put your guns on the ground!"

Scully got her gun out, slowly, and put it down in front of her.

"-You too, Mulder," ordered Krycek. Mulder swore under his breath, and put his gun on the ground.

"Now... who?"

"I'm not saying anything until you put your gun down," said Mulder, carefully. Krycek looked like he was going to shoot him for a minute, then he smiled, and put his gun on the edge of the bed, within easy reach.

"Stubborn son of a bitch," Alex commented, "-tell me."

Mulder opened his mouth, then closed it, and started over.

"The baby doesn't have a mother, in the genetic sense. It has two fathers, and you are one of them," Alex waited, and tried to be prepared for the worst, "-the other is me."

"..."

So much for being prepared for the worst. Krycek was floored. He fumbled behind him for his gun, knocked it off the bed, and lunged at Mulder empty-handed. Alex slammed Mulder up against the wall, and held him there by his neck, one-handed.

"You did this to me?!" Mulder shook his head emphatically, and fought not to have his windpipe crushed. Scully snatched her gun off of the floor, and held it on Krycek.

"Let him go!" yelled Scully, "-he didn't have any more say in this than you did."

"How do you know?" demanded Krycek.

"Because I saw his face when HE found out about it," said Scully. Krycek looked into Mulder's eyes, and whatever he found there, he let him go. He got his gun off the floor, and put it back in it's holster. Then he went into the bathroom, slammed the door, and was sick.

Mulder leaned against the wall where Krycek had released him, and muttered,

"Oh, god..."

"Are you all right, Mulder?" Scully handed him his gun, and he holstered it without looking at it.

"I bet somebody asked Burkowitz that," said Mulder.

"What a mess," sighed Scully.

"You called Skinner?"

"Yes."

"What did you tell him?" asked Mulder.

"That we're still alive, and we're going to try to work something out with Krycek. Skinner wants us to come back to DC, and put Krycek under protective custody."

"Is he nuts? Krycek wouldn't last a week," objected Mulder.

"That depends on who knows he's in town," pointed out Scully.

Krycek walked out of the bathroom, his expression daring either of them to comment. He took the chair by the phone, and asked,

"Anything else I should know about?"

Mulder looked out the window, and said,

"No, that's about it."

* * *

Mulder's fish were very happy to see him. He flipped the lights on, and draped his coat over the computer chair. Krycek closed the door.

"So, I assume you know where everything is?"

"It's even easier with the lights on," nodded Alex. He stopped, and inspected the contents of the fish tank. "-When did you get the new fish?"

Mulder came over and saw which fish Krycek was pointing to.

"That's miss September."

Alex smirked.

"At least you're consistent," he took his duffel bag into the bedroom, then returned and turned on the computer, moving Mulder's coat onto the couch.

"Don't bother. I keep all the good stuff at work," said Mulder, returning from the kitchen with a bowl of macaroni and cheese in hand.

"I wanted to see my file," explained Alex.

"Didn't you keep a copy?"

"Of course I did, but you have the file here, don't you?"

"You're right," Mulder produced the CD from the pocket of his coat, and looked at it in alarm. It had snapped unevenly in half, along with it's clear plastic case. "-Must have happened in the crash," he guessed, looking at the halves in his hands unhappily.

"That's good Mulder. That's really good."

"I didn't know I was getting into a car accident," said Mulder, apologetically.

"Were you driving on the wrong side of the road again?" asked Krycek.

"I was distracted."

"By what?"

"I was thinking," said Mulder.

"What about?" asked Krycek. He was sifting through Mulder's computer files, and hoping Mulder wouldn't notice.

"The price of the truth," answered Mulder.

"Did you figure it out?" Krycek opened a .gif file.

"Yes, but it wasn't my call," Mulder glanced at the dark screen of his computer for a moment. "...I'm going to go take a shower."

* * *

Krycek watched him leave, then looked at the computer speculatively. He searched through the desk, including the underside and backs of the drawers, and came up with three floppy disks, one black, one gray, and one red. Then he looked under the computer, and felt along the top of the light gray hard drive tower. He found something fuzzy, but it turned out to be one of those cotton-balls-with-eyes things. Krycek set it back on top of the tower with distaste, then slid the black disk into the A-drive, and looked at the contents. It was a diary, of sorts, that contained Mulder's case notes and ramblings from the cases he had in '94. Not especially useful. Alex ejected the black disk, and put in the red one. It opened to a picture of three naked, buxom women doing see-no-hear-no-speak-no-evil against a red velvet backdrop, and there was a password prompt at the bottom of the screen. Krycek guessed 'kinky fox' but it didn't pan out. The computer refused to return to the main directory, or even let the mouse move, so he ejected the red disk, and pressed control-alt-delete. The system booted up back to normal just as Mulder walked in, clad in jeans and a T-shirt. He noticed the disks, and swept them casually back into the desk's top drawer.

"Enjoy the show?" Mulder asked.

"You need a hobby," said Alex. He abandoned the computer to Mulder, got his duffel bag from the other room, and took his turn in the shower. It felt good to be clean again, and Krycek turned the water up as hot as he could stand it. He used Mulder's shampoo, and was in the process of rinsing it out of his hair, when the baby moved. Alex almost slipped. Every time this happened, it was like someone bumping his elbow unexpectedly. He knelt on the floor of the shower to finish rinsing the shampoo out, then got out, and toweled off hurriedly. The baby was getting stronger, he could really feel it now. It turned over once, then pushed again, and turned over the opposite way. This was getting really weird. Alex put on a fresh pair of black jeans from his duffel, and added a gray-blue sweatshirt. The jeans were new, and they fit, for now. Under his skin, it was still moving, independent of his will.

Alex raided the fridge, and came to the conclusion that he would have to go shopping some time in the near future. Mulder dealt with food on a cash-and-carry basis, but Krycek already knew that. You don't spend six months as Mulder's partner and keep any illusions that he cooks. He eventually gave up, and discovered a quart of caramel/walnut ice cream in the freezer. Alex scooped up a taste of it with his thumb, and found it to be wonderful. He got a spoon, and finished off the carton.

* * *

Over the next couple of days, Krycek didn't ask questions about when Scully would get around to dealing with him, but he was getting impatient. Scully had said the holdup was location and safety, but it had been two days, and if the consortium was still interested in killing him... Wait a minute. Why would the Englishman bother with this pregnancy business if he was just going to kill him? Could there be factions of the consortium at war with each other? -It wasn't like that was unusual or anything. Whoever it was that had attacked him (or had they been after Scully?) might or might not have power in DC. Maybe he should get in touch with the Englishman and ask him what the hell was going on. Not that he would trust his former mentor's answer, but it might tell him where to look. He might also find out why this was done to him in the first place. Fox Mulder... Alex hadn't credited the Englishman with a sense of humor, but apparently he had been wrong. Mulder was gone at the moment. He said he was meeting Scully somewhere. Maybe he could get a call to the Englishman without having it tracked here. He was good enough, he knew that.

Krycek got online under one of his own accounts, and typed in the url for the CIA rerouting program. It had been one of the many useful illegal tricks he had picked up along the way, and he had committed it to memory long ago. He set the signal to reroute through a dozen different cities on the eastern seaboard, and looped it through New York at the end. Track that, you nosy bastard, Alex thought. He dialed the number, and waited. It rang twice before the Englishman picked up.

"Hello?" The old man sounded both bored and professional.

"It's Krycek." said Alex. There was a pause.

"I had been wondering when you would call," said the Englishman. There was a tone in the old man's voice, a tone that Alex didn't like in the slightest. It was almost... mocking? smug? He had heard a voice like that before, in Russia. There was a woman...

He remembered that day with sickening clarity. It was snowing, but not hard. He had acquired an assortment of guns, and was trying to sell them as quietly as possible. That sort of deal wasn't difficult, but he preferred to meet his business associates in a place that was warm and served drinks. The man he was meeting was a face, they never got around to exchanging names. He took a seat next across from Krycek, and Krycek noticed that one of the whores at the bar took one look at the guy, grabbed her coat quickly, and left. His associate had laughed at her quick departure, and boasted that he had 'broken her in'. Krycek hadn't been in much of a mood to listen to the man woolgather, so he had suggested that they agree on a price for the guns. When the deal was closed, the man had said,

"I love this town, you can make money doing anything."

"Tell me more." Krycek had said. The man pointed to the door.

"Take Illiana for example. Her pimp used to be a doctor. He does black-market abortions now, and the ones who can't pay him upfront pay him back in trade. He paid me to rape her. Now that's what I call easy money."

The memory shattered in rage, and Krycek slammed the phone back into it's cradle, breaking the connection. He shut down the Internet rerouter, then shut the computer off entirely, and went to sit on the couch in silence.

Alex Krycek had a long history of having to go along with other people to get what he wanted, and he was good at it. It your back's to the wall, all you have to do is give them what they want, and they let you live. He'd been playing the game, trying to make himself too dangerous, and too valuable to kill. It worked sometimes. There were setbacks though, like the black oil, and getting double crossed by Marita. The black oil had cost him his first big win, and Marita had indebted him to the Englishman. Whatever he owed the Englishman he had paid back long ago though, and he thought they were square, when he quit. He didn't want to play the Englishman's chauffeur forever. He must have screwed up somewhere, though, or he wouldn't be in this mess.

The Englishman had led him to believe that he was teaching him, that he liked him. That was probably the mistake right there, assuming that the Englishman liked him enough to let him quit. The Englishman had wanted to own him. He thought back to their first meeting, in the hold of the Russian ship, after being double-crossed by Marita. He had been handcuffed to a steel pipe, and the Englishman had come, and demanded the vaccine. He had been power-tripping from day one. He probably saw Alex's quitting as an open insult, a peasant rebellion.

So he'd basically raped him. Alex clawed at his own logic, but it held. He wondered what had become of Illiana. Was she still working the streets of Moscow, or was she free? Krycek knew how the rules of the jungle worked. Either you were the hunter, or you were the hunted, and he would be damned if he would let himself be hunted like this. He had to prove what he was, before people forgot altogether.

* * *

Mulder came home late that night, and Krycek was asleep on the couch. He woke up when Mulder closed the door.

"Hi, Krycek. You miss me?"

"Yeah, right," Alex re-curled himself on the couch, "-what did Scully want?"

"Your medical file. I gave the disk to some friends of mine, and they should be able to salvage it in a day or two," said Mulder, loosening his tie.

"The Lone Gunmen," smirked Krycek.

"Is nothing sacred?"

"No," said Krycek. Mulder ordered a pizza, absolutely no mushrooms, and turned on the TV absently. Mulder liked to leave the TV on, but most of the time he didn't bother to watch it. He left it on the oddest channels too, anything from BBC to porn. Tonight he flipped to the news, then forsook it for 'Earth: final conflict.'

Later, over the remains of the pizza, Alex caught Mulder watching him.

"What?" Alex demanded. Mulder shrugged.

"Just thinking."

"Well out with it, you've been staring at me like that a lot lately," said Alex, annoyed.

"Sorry..."

"What do you want, Mulder?"

"What is it like to be pregnant?" asked Mulder. Krycek put his hand on his stomach self-consciously.

"What, do you wish they had used you for this or something?"

"No, I- -I want to know," said Mulder.

"No you don't," said Alex.

"What's so bad about it?" asked Mulder.

"You can deal with truth being 'out there'. Stick to what you know," advised Alex.

"Can you feel it when it moves?" asked Mulder.

"You're fucking sick, Mulder!" snapped Alex.

"A lot of people say that," sighed Mulder.

"Ever think there might be a reason?" Alex considered Mulder for a moment, and added, "You've probably fantasized about this, haven't you?"

"I tried to imagine what it would be like," shrugged Mulder.

"Why? You like the feeling of something moving inside you?" asked Krycek, scornfully.

"Is that an offer?" asked Mulder, deadpan.

"You want to know what this feels like?" snarled Alex, "-this feels like having you inside me. It's weird, and annoying, and I can't get away from it!"

"Does it trust you?" asked Mulder. The question caught Alex off guard, and his first thought was, 'it probably doesn't know any better'.

"How the hell should I know? It's probably not even conscious."

Mulder thought about that. Krycek gave him a last angry look, and went into the bedroom. Mulder turned the TV and the lights off, and lay on the couch in the darkness. The green leather was warm to the touch, from Krycek's body heat. Mulder stared at the ceiling, wondering if he had pushed Krycek too hard in his curiosity. He'd wanted to know so badly... was he looking for something that simply wasn't there to be found, or was Krycek the one who was missing the wonder of the situation? In the midst of psychoanalyzing himself, Mulder fell asleep.

* * *

Krycek woke up from a nightmare about the black oil. It was still dark, and it felt like about three in the morning. He brought his hand up, and touched his eyelids, shakily. Not oily. Then he realized why he had been dreaming about the black oil, as he felt the now sickeningly familiar movement in his belly. A hand, maybe... It slid along the inside of his skin, mapping, exploring. He shuddered. He could feel it tracing his insides, never going over the same spot twice, oh god, it was remembering. Alex turned over, and willed it to go to sleep. It squirmed around a bit, then stretched. Alex put his hand to the spot that was being pushed, and discovered a smooth bump under his skin. It disappeared a moment later. Alex wondered how long it was going to be before he went mad. It was just too weird. The movement came again, another stretch. This time he felt the bump form beneath his fingers, and then disappear inside him two heartbeats later. It was terrifying. Krycek wondered how Mulder would handle something like this. Knowing the FBI agent, he'd probably be taking notes. Alex smiled at the thought in the dark. His smile evaporated with the next stretch. This should have happened to Mulder. -Mulder wasn't an international wild-card who had more people who wanted him dead than fingers. It wasn't fair. Alex hated hating this. He hated being afraid every time he felt it move, and he wished, just this once, that he could see the world through Mulder's eyes.

He got up, and went silently out into the living room. Everything was painted in blue light and winter-shadow, even Mulder's sleeping face. Krycek shook Mulder's shoulder, just enough to wake him up.

"Krycek? What-" began Mulder, sleepily.

"Give me your hand," said Alex, quietly. Mulder sat up, and asked,

"What's going on?" in the same tone Krycek had used.

"Just give me your hand," Krycek whispered.

Mulder put his hand out towards Krycek cautiously. Krycek took Mulder's hand, and placed it on his stomach, palm down. Mulder looked up at Krycek, eyes wide open in surprise. Hadn't Krycek just been yelling at him a couple of thoughts ago? Twenty heartbeats passed, measured by his breathing, and Krycek's. When he felt the movement begin against his hand, Mulder gasped softly. It was inside Krycek, it was Krycek, and yet it wasn't... It disappeared, then came back a moment later. Mulder stroked the bump softly, with his thumb. It disappeared again. Mulder smiled faintly, unconsciously, and put his cheek against Krycek's stomach. He could hear Krycek's heartbeat, this close. The touch was different this time, it was a hand, sliding over the inside skin, but almost not pushing outward at all. The tiny hand explored the line of Mulder's jaw, curiously. Mulder giggled. There wasn't any other word for the sound. Krycek's hand, which had been resting on Mulder's shoulder, tightened. Mulder looked up. Krycek drank in Mulder's expression, his fascination, his delight, and most of all his sweet acceptance. It felt like letting go, and winning, and plunging a burn into cold water.

Krycek released Mulder's shoulder, and slid his hand around the back of the agent's head. He could kill him now, if he wished. Instead, he drew Mulder's head back to where it had been on his stomach. Mulder pushed Krycek's shirt up, and felt the next touch skin-to skin, on his face. It pushed against his cheek experimentally. Mulder clenched his jaw, flexing the muscle just below his ear, pushing back into the questioning hand. It pushed again, right against the muscle that had moved. Alex could feel the stubble on Mulder's face against his stomach. Mulder tightened his jaw, relaxed it, then tightened and relaxed it again. The baby pushed back once... and then twice.

"Krycek..." whispered Mulder, "-this kid is really smart."

"...I know," whispered Alex.

After a few more exchanges with Mulder, the baby seemed to be getting tired, and the pushes stopped. Mulder sighed happily, and nuzzled the skin under his cheek in farewell. Then he drew back a bit, and stood, so that he was on Krycek's eye level. Krycek's expression was unreadable, his face a mask. He pulled his shirt down, put his hand on Mulder's shoulder for a moment, then went back in the bedroom, and closed the door. Mulder sat on the edge of the coffee table, shaken. He looked at the palm of his hand, then touched the side of his face, remembering.

* * *

AD Skinner looked up when he heard the door open.

"Have a seat, agent Mulder." Mulder took the chair to the left of Scully's, and waited. This struck Skinner as odd, but he decided to let it pass as progress in the right direction.

"-Scully just finished telling me about her adventure at lake Michigan. The forensics people I sent check the motel came up with nothing of value, but the waitress from the motel diner gave us a good description of the incident. Any ideas on who they were, Agent Mulder?"

"I wasn't there, but I have reason to believe that the hit was arranged by an element within the consortium. That would also account for how they scrubbed the rooms so fast, they've done that kind of thing before."

"Fair enough. How are you coming on the deal with Krycek?"

"Uh..." Mulder exchanged glances with Scully, who's look told him (he hoped) 'no, I didn't tell him about the baby'.

"He's cooperating with the protective custody, but he's only given us half the information-"

"Where is that information, agent Mulder?"

"It's being salvaged. My copy was damaged in the crash the other day, but it's recoverable."

"Do you know what consists of?" asked Skinner.

"It's a list of names and medical data on most or all of the individuals who were abducted for hybridization experiments," Skinner's eyebrows shot up.

"That doesn't sound realistic. What the hell are you trading Krycek?"

"Krycek had a falling out with his former employer, who then inflicted some fairly complex and painful vengeance on him," Scully cut in, "-he's been running ever since, and he can't go to a hospital because of the risk of being caught. Our deal is based on my medical ability to reverse his condition."

"What IS his condition?" asked Skinner. Scully pursed her lips briefly, thinking, then answered,

"He is my patient, Sir. His condition is... very personal in nature," her expression hinted at unpleasantness, "-suffice it to say that without my help he has four months to live, give or take."

Skinner did not pursue the details.

"I want this wrapped up as soon as possible. Give Krycek what he wants, and get the rest of the information. Try to keep a hold of Krycek too, if you can," instructed Skinner

"That's gonna to be tricky," said Mulder.

"Try. I don't expect you got anything done on the Michigan case, did you?"

"No, but it's not a time-critical case."

"I'm giving it to Welling's people. I want you to concentrate on this Krycek situation. Agent Scully, are you going to need access to a private clinic for this?"

"That would be best," Nodded Scully.

"It's done, just don't let this one get away from you. That'll be all."

Mulder and Scully filed out of Skinner's office.

In the elevator, Mulder leaned his forehead against the shiny stainless-steel wall, and closed his eyes.

"Mulder...?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?" Mulder smiled, and didn't answer. Scully sighed. "-Well, who would be?"

"I hate this one, Scully."

"Because of Krycek, or...?"

"History repeats itself... and the part I can't get over is that I understand why now."

"History repeats itself?"

"I think being a lousy father must run in my family."

The elevator door opened, and a woman in a peach-colored business suit got on, then pressed '1'.

* * *

Mulder's apartment was silent, save for the bubbling of the fish tank.

"Krycek?" Scully turned on a light in the living room. Mulder checked the kitchen, but Krycek wasn't there. Mulder checked the bedroom, and saw that Krycek's duffel bag was missing.

"Dammit, Krycek!" burst out Mulder.

"He's not there?"

"He's gone," sighed Mulder.

"Maybe he's in the bathroom," suggested Scully. The bathroom was empty, but the mirror was still fogged up from a recent shower.

"Why would he leave?" pointed out Scully, "-was he getting impatient about when I was going to do the procedure?"

"No, no, he hasn't even mentioned it."

"That's odd."

"That's Krycek," Mulder ran a hand through his hair, and looked around the living room for anything else out of place. The computer desk had been searched, but nothing was missing as far as he could tell.

"Maybe he decided to try reconciling with the Englishman?"

"No way, Scully. He hates him."

"How do you know?"

"Well, Krycek said that-" Mulder stopped himself in midsentense, "-oh, god... I didn't just say that I took Krycek at his word, did I?"

Scully nodded.

"Okay... oog... Now why would he... -Of course, the gunmen!" Mulder seized the phone and started dialing, "-if he was looking through my desk, he might have been looking for the CD, in case I had it back from the gunmen and didn't tell him. He knows the lone gunmen have the disk, since I don't, and if he's going back with the Englishman, he can't have loose data floating around like that that belongs to his boss- -come on, pick up!- -because then the Englishman will know he stole it in the first place, and- -Langley?" Mulder gave his full attention to the phone. "-Listen, about that disk I gave you- (pause) -Oh, good,- (pause) -you what...?- (pause) -No, ahh, just don't print it, okay?- (pause) -No, names are bad. What I called to tell you is that I lost Krycek, and he may be looking for that disk. (loooong pause) -I'll let you know," Mulder hung up.

* * *

Why was it that consortium heads kept such tight security?

-Probably because of people like me, Krycek smirked to himself. There were two guards, both well hidden, and possibly more that he couldn't see. A security camera covered the door, and two more were hidden in the bushes by the side of the building. That was just the back entrance. Why anyone would try a frontal assault on a suburban townhouse, Alex hadn't a clue. He slipped into the neighbor's yard, and peered through the fence. Yup, it was the same security pattern that he remembered. He watched the house for an hour, and saw someone light up a cigarette. A third guard. For a moment he wondered if it was the smoking man, but he discarded the idea. The CSM wouldn't light up on watch like that, because doing so was dumb if you were trying to remain hidden, and the CSM, whatever else he might be, certainly wasn't stupid. He'd stood that guard position himself once or twice, and he knew that the guards were relieved at one AM. The poor suckers who pulled the next shift would be out until dawn.

Alex waited until the guard changed, then slipped over the fence and behind a bush while the guards from both shifts were talking to each other. Christ! These guys get soft when I'm not around, thought Krycek. He could have told them to stay watchful even when they were changing shifts. Alex stopped to catch his breath, then moved silently along the side of the house to a downstairs window. It had an alarm, of course. Krycek peeked in the window cautiously, saw the library, in darkness, then carefully de-activated the window's alarm. Not many people could have pulled that one off. He would have preferred to simply shoot the guards, but with three, one of them was sure to open fire before being shot, which would be noisy. Alex's gun, of course, had a silencer. He opened the window, and climbed through.

The library held the Englishman's computer, as well as an extensive collection of legal and historical books, which reflected the Englishman's exacting British tastes. Krycek liked this room. So many secrets in one room, you had to wonder which of the myriad books was hollow, and what was inside them if they were? How many sheets of paper, printed with souls and blood, were tucked away between these innocuous covers? He knew for a fact that one section of the shelves concealed a wall safe. That wasn't his target, though. The Englishman believed in hiding things in plain sight, or in this case, just not in the safe. The backups for the files Alex had stolen a month ago were hidden in one or more books in this library, but he wasn't exactly sure which ones. That didn't bother him, though. Alex set the fire-bomb he'd brought with him to go off in three minutes, then tucked it into the bottom drawer of the desk, and slipped out the window. He hid in the bushes, and checked his watch. 2:42 and counting. This would have to be quick. Krycek fired a shot into a garbage can across the yard, and went over the fence while the guards were checking it out. One of them saw him though, and raised the alarm by shooting at him. Alex got away clean, and ran for his life.

* * *

He was the only thing that moved on that quiet street, and he had to move fast, because that wouldn't last long. Krycek broke into the basement of a house four houses down the row and across the street from the Englishman's, through a ground-level window. He dropped into the basement, startling some mice, and stumbled on a pile of cardboard boxes filled with what felt like knitting yarn. Alex disentangled himself from the yarn and sat on the floor, back to the cinder-block cellar wall. His stomach hurt like hell from running, and he bit down on the sleeve of his leather jacket to keep silent. There might be people upstairs in this house. Oh, god it hurt... Alex squeezed his eyes shut, and concentrated on his own heartbeat, trying to block out everything else. It had worked in Tunguska, and it worked now, a little.

His concentration was broken by the sound of an explosion, and the basement was lit softly red by the light of the Englishman's burning townhouse. Got you! Thought Alex. It was five minutes before he could stand, and another seven before he cared to try. The cramp, or whatever it was, faded more slowly than it had on the boat with Scully. Krycek hoped it wasn't anything dangerous. He had a look out the window, and saw that the fire department was just arriving. No problem, the backup disks were already history. There was a growing crowd watching the burning house, and several of the neighbors were busily dousing their roofs. Krycek kept watching, and spotted two of the guards asking people questions. That was fine. -It kept them occupied longer. Now to get out of here. Krycek decided not to risk the outside window, since it could be seen from the street, but that left the cellar door. It was locked, but nothing a well-placed credit card couldn't overcome. A television was on, down the hall from the cellar door somewhere, and Krycek heard a man's voice ask,

"Is that you, Carol?" Krycek slipped out the back door as quickly as possible, and climbed over the back fence into the yard of someone on a parallel street. The dog, a rotweiller, heard him climbing and ran over to bark at him until he came within biting reach. Alex shot the dog, and dropped to the grass on the other side. He let himself out the chain-link side-gate onto the new street, and started walking downtown as if nothing had happened. And what had? He'd just gone out to buy a pack of smokes, hadn't he?

* * *

Mulder pounced on his cell-phone, and answered it.

"Mulder."

"It's Alex-"

"Where are you?" demanded Mulder.

"I'm in DC," said Krycek.

"That narrows it down," quipped Mulder.

"I called to tell you I'm still interested in the deal, should there have been any doubt."

"Why did you leave at all?"

"Unfinished business with the Englishman. I don't think I'd better come back to your place tonight."

"What have you done?"

"Watch the news, Mulder. It'll be highlighted in red," Krycek hung up.

Mulder dialed star-69, and called him back. Nobody answered. Disgusted, he switched on the TV, and found the news.

There was a traffic jam, more on Monicagate, and an uptown private residence had exploded, killing four people, and putting the owner in the hospital. The fire was being blamed on a bomb, and the police had as yet no suspects. They did have a general description of the perpetrator as being about six feet tall, heavyset, and dressed in dark clothing. That sounded like Krycek, all right. Mulder taped the broadcast, and looked for familiar faces in the crowd. He didn't recognize anyone except a couple of the policemen, though. Krycek was probably well clear by now, and without a better description of him, the police were out of their league. Hell, they would be out of their league even if they had a recent Polaroid, Mulder reflected.

He decided not to wake up Scully.

* * *

-tbc-


	3. Chapter 3

Krycek woke up in a strange bed, in a bright room. It was the light that had awakened him. Then he remembered he'd spent the night in the 11th St. DC youth hostel, and it must be morning by now. Looking around, he saw that he was in a room with four sturdy wooden bunk beds, one along each wall. Everyone was awake and gone by now, except for one person in the bottom bunk across from him, who had pulled the blanket over their head against the encroaching light of morning. Krycek located his duffel bag, then his gun, and both were still in his possession. Over time, he'd discovered that youth hostels were good places to disappear, especially when his enemies were impressed with him. If what he'd done last night hadn't impressed them, they were jaded indeed. Krycek wondered how long it was going to take the computer techs to get the genetics lab computer to stop playing 'Peter and the Wolf' and tell them that the database had been wiped. He'd e-mailed the virus just before leaving Mulder's apartment. Krycek smiled to himself, and considered his next move.

* * *

Mulder was driving to the Hoover building, when his cell-phone rang.

"Mulder."

"Where is Mr. Krycek?" asked the voice on the other end of the line, coolly.

"Who is this?" demanded Mulder.

"A mutual acquaintance," said the cigarette smoking man. Mulder's eyes hardened.

"Why do you want him?"

"I am trying to ascertain why he has taken certain problematic actions recently."

"You already know."

"Do I?"

"I would have thought so."

"Nevertheless..."

"Why do you think it was him?" asked Mulder.

"He wished us to know that it was."

"What did he do?"

"Don't waste my time, Mulder."

"No problem," Mulder hung up. This was getting more complex all the time.

* * *

Frohike got the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Mulder. Open up," Frohike checked the surveillance camera, confirming this, then unbolted the locks.

"Hi, Mulder!" said Frohike, rather louder than necessary. When the door opened, all three gunmen were looking at him. They said nothing.

"What?" Mulder looked from one face to another, beginning to worry.

"Congratulations, dad!" yelled Langley, and on that cue, the three of them bombarded him with shredded-document confetti.

"Wait a minute!-" Mulder threw his hands up in a 'stop' gesture, -partly to ward off the storm of shredded paper.

"What's wrong?" asked Byers.

"You look pissed," observed Frohike.

"Hey, you can just brush it off, don't worry," reassured Langley. The last few bits of confetti drifted down apologetically.

"Phu-" Mulder dislodged a couple of pieces that had landed on his bottom lip, and looked at the gunmen, trying to decide how to react.

"There's been a mistake here, guys."

"What do you mean?" asked Frohike, "-we thought-"

"You thought right, except that Krycek isn't planning on having it," sighed Mulder.

The gunmen exchanged glances uncomfortably.

"We're sorry," said Langley. Mulder noted, not for the first time, that the Lone Gunmen were a gestalt entity.

"It's all right. -Schmucks," mumbled Mulder, brushing off the worst of the confetti.

"We restored the disk, anyway," Frohike handed him a new CD.

* * *

A week of passed, and Mulder thought Krycek was just lying low. Another week passed, this one spent searching unsuccessfully for Krycek. Mulder hadn't heard from Alex since the night before the smoking man called him, and he hoped there wasn't a connection. Convinced that there were no productive leads on Krycek's whereabouts, Skinner reassigned them to a new case. Mulder went along with this, albeit unenthusiastically.

It was in the backwoods of Kentucky, on a farm twelve miles from the nearest town, Pineville. A teenage girl named Lily Kincaide had been found dead in the center of a fairy ring, and the cause of death was still unknown. Over the phone, the local doctor said it looked like nothing he'd ever seen before, and Scully told him to quarantine the body. When they arrived in town, Scully began an autopsy on the body, and Mulder went up to the field where the body had been found. It had rained the night before, and the mud sucked at Mulder's shoes as he walked up to the front door of the yellow and white farmhouse. Several pieces of dis-used farm machinery lay out in the yard, rusting patiently. A middle-aged woman in a green housedress with lank blonde hair and red-rimmed eyes answered the door.

"Good morning Ma'am. My name it Fox Mulder, I'm with the FBI."

"Oh... well come in then. I'm Tracy Kincaide," Mulder followed her inside, and the screen door banged shut behind him. "-I suppose you're here about Lily?..."

"Yes, my condolences. Could you show me exactly where she was found?"

"That'll be up in deep left field. ...I should lend you a pair of boots, it's just one muddy mess after a rain like this."

Mulder noticed that one of the walls was covered with baseball paraphernalia.

"Deep left field?"

"My husband Tom's favorite movie is 'Field of Dreams'. You could say it sort 'a rubbed off on him..."

* * *

Several days later...

"How did it go?" asked Scully. Mulder took a long pull on his coffee, and looked back at her over the rim of the mug. Through the window behind him, the sun was just beginning to rise.

"They made me, and I got the information. In that order."

"They answered your questions after they figured out you were bluffing?"

"Uh-huh. And then we finished up with the circle," Mulder had another sip of his coffee.

"That could have gone a lot worse."

"You're telling me."

"What did they say she died of?"

"A power overload from a spell she couldn't handle. It's the occult equivalent of blowing a fuse."

"And you believe that?"

"You autopsied the body. What do you think?"

"I think it's the work of someone who suffers from deep psychological imbalances, and I also think it might have been committed to lend validity to the existence of magic."

"How do you figure?"

"They have you convinced, don't they?"

"In the absence of any other explanation, yeah."

"Frohike called while you were gone."

"He did? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to know what happened at the circle."

She handed him a piece of lined paper. It read,

'Lunastone URL:

Marshall Holbrook,

22 Willam St.

Athens, GA

(770) 835-4282'

"I called, but nobody answered the phone. The Athens police are checking it out now." explained Scully. Mulder dialed the number, and sure enough, nobody picked up.

An hour later, the phone rang.

"Mulder."

"Is agent Scully there?"

"Yeah, hang on. Scully, it's for you."

"Hello? This is agent Scully," said Scully, taking the phone.

"This is the Athens police department. We checked up and found Mr. Holbrook like you asked, but he was dead. The coroner says it was electrocution from a frayed lamp-cord. Sorry, Ma'am."

"No problem, thank you," she hung up. "-They just found Mr. Holbrook. He'd been electrocuted by a frayed lamp cord."

"That's great!" exclaimed Mulder.

"Come again?"

"I couldn't have prosecuted him for e-mailing the girl a faulty spell, but it looks like magic takes care of it's own."

"Assuming, of course, that he was guilty of distributing misleading witchcraft instructions in the first place." reminded Scully.

"Call it inciting a minor to go out dancing during a lightning storm if you want to, but I say this case is finished."

* * *

Mulder and Scully stopped by the Kincaide farm with a faxed copy of the coroner's preliminary report on Marshall Holbrook.

Mrs. Kincaide answered the door.

"It looks like Marian was right, Mrs. Kincaide," said Mulder, handing her the papers. Mrs. Kincaide read the top sheet of the packet, and started crying. She called the rest of the coven, and then got her husband from center field. It was a darkly triumphant gathering. Dominic decided maybe Mulder wasn't so bad after all. Mulder got a copy of the spell that had been e-mailed to Lily, for the fairy ring X-File. When they were getting ready to leave, Marian asked Mulder,

"Fox, do you have a son?"

"...Maybe. Why?"

"For some reason, I thought you did," she shrugged.

Scully offered to drove, on the way home, and Mulder didn't bother arguing with her.

Mulder's thoughts were spinning out of control. Marian had been right twice, why wouldn't she be right about this? If he had a son, that meant that Alex was still alive.

Probably.

When Krycek had failed to contact him again after the night the Englishman's house was bombed, Mulder had thought he was either dead or had sold out (again). If neither of those was scenarios was what had really happened though, why would he go underground like this? What if Krycek had switched sides again, but someone wanted the baby? That didn't even bear contemplation. Krycek's baby was human, not a chimeral alien hybrid. What purpose could the consortium -or whoever, for that matter- have had in creating a baby from his and Krycek's DNA? Collectively, they had probably caused the consortium more ulcers than anything else of terrestrial origin. Was there something about his DNA that he didn't know about? Was the file that Krycek had stolen from the genetics lab a fake? There were so many questions, so many holes in his knowledge... Worse still, there were so many possible answers that most of them were guaranteed to be wrong.

Mulder knew just one thing for certain: He couldn't let the consortium to get their hands on any baby, let alone one that was his. Mulder thought of Scully's daughter Emily, and of the words he'd said then, 'This little girl just wasn't meant to be'. Scully had agreed with him at the end, that dying was better for Emily than remaining a Consortium lab rat. Could he make a decision like that? What if he found this baby, only to discover that, like Emily, it would die if separated from the doctor who created it? What would Krycek think of all this? It was obvious that Krycek thought allying himself with the Consortium was preferable to dying, but would he see things the same way now? Would he kill the child outright, to prevent the Consortium from using it against him? Would he just give it to them? There was no way to tell what would happen until he could get in touch with Krycek, and Krycek had disappeared. Mulder remembered coming home to his apartment expecting to find Krycek at the computer or something, but the flat had been empty, and- -of course.

"Oh, stupid, stupid, Stupid!"

"What?" asked Scully.

"I think I know how to find Krycek."

"How?"

"The Internet. While he was staying with me, he went online using my computer, and he sure wasn't using my account. Maybe there would be a record of a username or another account on my hard drive. If we could pin down his Internet account, all we'd have to do is trace him next time he logs on."

"You could also e-mail him and ask him to call you," suggested Scully.

"That's no good, if he wanted to talk to me, he'd just call on his own," Mulder shook his head, "-besides, if he's trying not to be found, e-mailing him would only tip him off."

* * *

With a little timely help from the gunmen, Mulder's idea panned out, though the sight of all three gunmen descending on Mulder's computer at once had Scully in stitches. The problem was, every time Krycek logged on, it was traceable to a different phone number. The good news was that all the numbers had either 718 or 212 area codes, in other words, New York city. Mulder got the addresses of all the places Krycek was calling from so far, then went to see Skinner.

Skinner was talking to his secretary when Mulder walked in the outer door.

"You wanted something, agent Mulder?"

"Can we talk in your office, sir?"

"Fine. -I'll be back in five, Elane." When the door was closed, Skinner asked,

"-What's this about?"

"I got a new lead on Krycek, but it might take awhile to run down."

"How long are we talking about here?"

"At least a week, maybe more."

"What is this lead?" asked Skinner. Mulder told him.

"'Somewhere in New York', and you know he moves around constantly?" Skinner was incredulous, "-that's a lead?"

"I believe it'll be enough to allow me to find him."

"Like hell it will."

"Look, I-" Mulder checked himself, then continued, "-I've apprehended Krycek several times already-"

"-And he keeps escaping," finished Skinner, "-if keeping Krycek in custody is a problem, I could assign you some backup for this assignment."

"No, that won't be necessary," said Mulder.

"I insist," said Skinner, firmly.

"I had a deal worked out with him before. He might talk to me alone or with just Scully, but if I show up with people he doesn't recognize, he'll disappear."

"Agent Mulder, I can't approve this. I need you on the X-Files. From what you told me just before Krycek escaped last time, he'll have to come to you within a couple of months anyway. You can get him then," Mulder thought about that.

"In that case, I want to take some time off."

"You really think you can find him, don't you?"

"Yeah," -I have to.

"All right. You've got a week."

"Thank you Sir," For a change, it sounded genuine. Skinner stood, and looked out of his office window.

"Get started, agent Mulder,"

Mulder went.

When the door shut behind him, Skinner looked out over Washington DC and added,

"...I hope you find him."

* * *

Times square, November 27, 1998.

It was snowing, which Mulder considered entirely appropriate. He'd written Scully a letter, and left it under his cell-phone on the coffee table. He felt awful about ditching her like this, but better that than make her relive what she went through with Emily. Mulder realized he was lying to himself. He hadn't left Scully behind just because he wanted to protect her from the past, although that was part of it. No, he had ditched her because he was afraid that when he finally found Krycek, he wouldn't hate him anymore, and he didn't want Scully around to see it.

Mulder took the list of addresses out of his coat pocket, and found the one that Krycek had used most recently. According to the map, that street was about twenty blocks

West of where he was. Mulder hailed a cab.

It turned out to be a rooming house, not bad if you have to move around all the time. It reminded Mulder of some of the places he'd stayed over the summer break while he was at Oxford. The manager was a thin man of early middle age, with a blonde mustache and ponytail. He was listening to a country station, and thumbing through a copy of Hustler magazine that Mulder recognized as the October issue. He looked up appraisingly when Mulder got to the counter. Hmm... jeans, hiking boots, nice sensible green parka, good haircut, looks lonely. His chick probably threw him out. Mulder struck him as harmless.

"Youse lookin' for a room?"

"Not right now. I'm looking for a guy who might be staying here," the manager snorted.

"I don't remember nobody, pal," Mulder took out a photograph. It was a good picture, but it was Krycek from another life. The haircut, jacket, and attitude Krycek had picked up (or resumed) since leaving the FBI had altered his appearance quite a bit. Mulder held the photograph so that his thumb obscured what Krycek was wearing, and showed it to the manager. The manager took a good long look, then shook his head.

"Sorry." ...Mulder could tell that the man recognized him. "-Are youse family?"

"Kind of," The manager looked at him distastefully.

"Ah-huh. Well if I sees him, I'll let him know youse is in town. What's your name?"

"Fox."

"Yer kiddin', right?"

"No."

Mulder found a flight of steps across the street, with an alcove at the top. It was out of the wind, and offered a good view of the front of the rooming house. It was still freezing cold, though. He sat on the top step, and folded his arms around his chest. He waited for a long time. Night fell, and people came and went from the rooming house, but Krycek wasn't one of them. Mulder got a room at a motel a couple of blocks away.

* * *

The next morning, the snow was a foot deep, and the street looked clean and just a little too bright. Mulder looked up the rest of Krycek's previous addresses, but though two people he talked to remembered having seen him, no-one had a forwarding address. Krycek had registered using his 'Arntzen' alias at one place, and his 'Alan Fisher' alias at the other. He hadn't stayed more than three days anywhere. By mid-afternoon, the snow on the sidewalks had been refined into an unpleasant and treacherously slippery mess.

Mulder returned to the rooming house, and asked the manager if he'd seen Krycek.

"Quite possibly I did. What're youse lookin' to talk to him for?"

"I'm a friend of his," The manager looked at him for a long moment, then pointed to a flight of worn wooden stairs off to the left.

"Room 128."

"Thanks."

It seemed like a long way up the stairs, but when Mulder got to the door of room 128, he paused a moment before knocking. Krycek opened the door in five, wearing his customary scuffed jeans and a necessarily loose sweatshirt that did little to disguise his condition. He looked more puzzled than hostile, especially after noticing that Mulder was in civvies and needed a shave.

"Why did you come?" Krycek asked.

"You- -you disappeared," said Mulder.

"And you wanted to know whose team I was on?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"I'm on my team, Mulder. As you've probably noticed by now, I always have been."

"I noticed."

"Do you want to come in?"

"Yes."

The room was small, but it had all the important bits. The thing Mulder noticed about it the most was the warm amber light coming from a lamp on the right wall. It painted the walls and ceiling a warm yellow, and left just enough shadow to reminded him of firelight. Krycek shut the door, and leaned against it, facing him. Mulder moved so that his back was to the window.

"Why did you bomb that house?" asked Mulder.

"Insurance."

"Against who?"

"My former employer."

"Who do you work for now?" asked Mulder. Krycek smiled.

"I'm still figuring out that part."

Mulder knew that was no guarantee of what the reality of the situation was, but it was as good as he was going to get here. He moved on to the reason he had come.

"You're still pregnant..." Mulder's voice held a note of bewilderment.

"And you still don't have any tact," observed Krycek.

"But why? I thought you didn't want it."

"What I want and what's ended up happening are two very different things, believe me."

"How?"

"The consortium is trying to shut you down by any means necessary short of killing you. When I quit, they saw an opportunity to either get me back working for them, or weaken you. It was a win-win situation for them. Either I would go back to work for them to get them to remove it, or I would go to you."

"How did they think that was going to hurt me? When you showed up the first time, I almost shot you."

"You know your own mind, Mulder. Why would helping me get rid of this baby have screwed you up?" asked Krycek. Mulder wouldn't meet his eyes, and treated the question as rhetorical.

"So what are you going to do?" asked Mulder.

"I'm going to have the baby," Krycek gave Mulder a moment to absorb this, then added, "-The way I see it, that's the only way to keep the Consortium from getting what they want."

"What if what they want is the baby?"

"Why implant something they value into me?" pointed out Krycek, "-I think they chose me for this because they thought there was no chance in hell that I would ever go through with it."

"I didn't think you would either," admitted Mulder.

"Did you want me to?"

"...Yes. Yes I did," Krycek looked at him thoughtfully.

"Figures," said Krycek. Mulder shrugged.

"You know how to get my attention, Alex."

"So what now?" Krycek thought Mulder could be very helpful, in the absence of any recent reason not to be, and best way to get Mulder on his side was to give him surface control of the situation. -Not that it was going to take much, in this case.

"Who's after you?"

"You would know better than me. The Consortium's the only one I'm worried about, though."

"Do they know where you are?"

"They do now. You were probably followed here."

"No I wasn't, I lost the guy who was following me back in the subway."

Alex pulled his gun, turned, and shot a hole in the center of the door. There was a pained yelp from the other side of the door, and the sound of someone running. Krycek opened the door quickly, and fired three shots down the hall. Mulder heard a body fall, and Krycek closed and locked the door. Outside, someone shouted,

"What the fuck?!"

"Out the window, now!" barked Alex. Mulder already had it open. Krycek grabbed up his duffel bag from the bed, and climbed out after him. It was a bit awkward, but he managed. He hoped they wouldn't have to run very far.

The fire escape was frozen in place, but it deployed after Mulder kicked it a few times. On the ground in the alley behind the rooming house, there was an orange dumpster, and they ducked behind it for a moment.

"Do you have a car?" asked Mulder. Krycek looked at him sharply.

"You mean you don't?"

"Not as such, no."

"Ebat'-kopat' trimandoblydskik pizdoproyob!" Krycek shouted at him, in frustration, "-you're a fucking jinx, Mulder!"

"We should start running now," said Mulder.

"I can't outrun anyone."

"Okay. We'll take that truck," Mulder pointed to a gray truck parked just inside the alley.

"That'll work," nodded Krycek, "-I'll get the door open." This was done quickly, and Krycek climbed into the truck, moving to the passenger's side. Mulder, having cleared the snow off the windshield, climbed in beside him and began hot-wiring the truck.

"I thought you always wanted to drive."

"It's a stick shift, Mulder. That takes two hands."

* * *

The engine caught, and Mulder pulled out onto the frozen street. Somewhere close by, a police siren sounded. Mulder stuck to side-streets, and headed towards the edge of town, changing direction often. They left the truck behind a behind a barber shop about a block from a car rental place, and got a car there. Mulder was driving. Their agreement years ago had been that whoever checks out the car from the motor pool also gets to drive, and somehow it still applied. As soon as they were out on the freeway Mulder asked,

"Who did you kill back there?"

"Ben Noor. I would have expected him to pull a better assignment than tailing you, but maybe he pissed somebody off."

"He worked for the Consortium?"

"Yeah."

"How many more do you think are after you?"

"He was tailing YOU, not me, and I think we have about eight hours before they reacquire us- -maybe a little more."

"Ah, the price of fame. Do you have anywhere to crash that they don't know about?"

"Not anymore," said Alex. Mulder sighed.

"For further reference, how DO I contact you without blowing your cover?"

"I left my e-mail address on your bookmarks, you dip," Alex informed him.

"How do you think I found you? I just didn't know how things stood with you and the Consortium and I didn't want you to bolt."

"I don't spook that easily, especially from you. When's the last time you escaped from the NYPD in a hot-wired truck?"

"Technically speaking, I got to you first."

"You forgot to read me my rights."

"You have the right to remain silent," recited Mulder, "-which you've obviously going to ignore. You have the right to-"

"Cut it out, will you? If you arrest me, you'll have to explain how I escaped."

"Gee, I never knew you cared," said Mulder, deadpan.

"I don't have enough allies left to waste."

"You have ANY allies left?"

"Counting you?"

"Krycek, I'm not your ally. Through no fault of our own, we share a common cause at the moment, but I am NOT your ally."

Methinks he doth protest too much, thought Alex.

"That's good enough for me."

"Fair enough. Why does the Consortium want you so badly?"

"I landed the smoking man's boss in the hospital by bombing his house. Does that clear it up?"

"No. Why did you plant that bomb in the first place?"

"I already told you."

"Tell me again. How does pissing off the Consortium act as insurance?"

"The Englishman wasn't the target, just an added bonus. I was destroying the backups for the files I stole from their genetics lab."

"And?"

"I wiped the lab CPU's database. Right now I have the last complete copy of their research."

"Then why are they still trying to kill you?" asked Mulder.

"Maybe the Englishman's still sore about his house getting wrecked? Beats the hell out of me."

"I don't suppose you forgot to tell them you had this last surviving copy?"

"I told them, believe me," Krycek assured him.

"They probably had a secondary backup," said Mulder.

"Well of course they had a secondary backup, but I thought it was in the same room as the primary."

"Apparently not," Mulder took an off-ramp. "-Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Me too, and I need to call some people," he parked at a Burger King, "-you get the food, I'll be right back." Mulder wandered off in search of a phone.

Krycek wondered, and not for the first time, how Mulder had managed to stay alive as long as he had. Finally he grinned, and walked over to the restaurant entrance.

* * *

"Scully, it's me."

"Mulder, where have you been?"

"Are you on a cell-phone?"

"No, what's going on?"

"I found him."

"Krycek?"

"Uther Pendragon."

"Don't tell me he's still pregnant...?"

"He looks like John Travolta," confirmed Mulder.

"When are you coming back?"

"When I know where to put Alex when I get there. The Consortium is looking for him, and they're not happy. I had an idea about how to deal with that, actually, but I don't want to tell you over the phone."

"Mulder, when you get into Washington, what are you planning to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"If Krycek is still pregnant, does he expect me to do something about it as part of some deal you two have worked out?" Scully's tone was unenthusiastic.

"No, no, he's decided to have the baby."

"Thank God."

"God had very little to do with this, if you ask me."

"How serious is Krycek about working with us?"

"Pretty serious, but with someone like him it's impossible to say for certain."

"Be careful, Mulder."

"I will," Mulder hung up, then put in some more coins and dialed again.

* * *

Mulder stuck his face in the white paper bag, and inhaled deeply. He got out a French fry, and ate it.

"Fried newts," he smiled and ate another, "-you remembered."

"You've been working the X-Files too long. Give me the bag."

Mulder started rummaging through the bag's contents. Krycek took one of the paper cups on the dashboard at random, and opened it, adding the aroma of coffee to the mingling smells of hot hamburger and fried potato. the windows of the car started fogging up, slowly adding to the sense that the rest of the world was a million miles away, and it could go to hell on the next elevator.

"Do you know where we're going yet?" asked Krycek. Mulder took a few items out of the bag, and passed it to Krycek.

"Yeah, I found a place for you to stay once we get to DC."

"You're hiding me from the Consortium in Washington DC? What do you have, a cloaked ship?"

"Wait 'till I introduce you to the crew."

"Seriously, where are we going?"

"Seriously, I know some people in DC."

"Who?"

"You'll see when we get there."

"Yes, and as such, I'd say that's a pretty trivial piece of information to keep me in the dark about," Krycek pointed out, irritably.

Mulder ate, saying nothing.

"-What is this, some kind of superiority game?" Alex demanded.

"What do you mean?" asked Mulder.

"You know what I mean."

"Krycek, I sometimes play with people. So do you. In this case it's harmless. What is your problem?"

"You think because I want your help you can push me around. That pisses me off." Mulder thought about that, then asked,

"Is that why you left the Consortium?"

Alex's face froze.

"I left because I didn't want a career as the Englishman's chauffeur." That sounded like a yes to Mulder. Alex was tired of people taking him for granted. Now the question was, should he use that against him, or respect it? He didn't want Krycek to know how easy it would be to manipulate him, but he didn't want to alienate Krycek, either. It would have to be a balance-

"-Look, if you want to play your game, play your game. Just remember that I can walk anytime you blink," Krycek unwrapped his burger and started eating. There was a long silence.

"I'm sorry." said Mulder, finally.

"What?"

"I said, I'm sorry,"

Krycek looked at him, carefully.

"Then where are we going?"

"To the Lone Gunman."

"Your tekkie friends? Why would they help me?"

"Because I asked." Krycek looked at him skeptically. "-And because they want a Wolf 5400 scanner that gets the CIA frequencies."

"You have one of those?"

"No, but I know where to get one."

"Tekkie toys... is that how you get these guys to work for you?"

"No, usually they do it for the information I lead them to in the process. They're really nervous about you."

"I don't blame them," smirked Krycek, "-do they uh, know?"

"They know everything that was on your file. They know."

"I guess it'll be okay until I can find somewhere else."

"You'll fit right in," Mulder assured, earning himself a dirty look from Krycek. The windows were opaque and fogged by now, and Mulder turned on the overhead light. "What are you going to do about the Consortium?"

"Deal, until they leave me alone. If they have a backup of the information I stole, I'll have to deal by threatening to release the information to whoever."

"You think that'll work?"

"I'll need access to an Internet-capable computer, but yeah. The problem is that they might decide to return the favor I did the Englishman and hope that I didn't have any outside backups. I would have to have a computer set up in a secret location that would release the information if I didn't send a message to stop it before a preset time. If I did that, they wouldn't be able to kill me without causing hellish security breaches, and I'd make sure they knew it. That would be risky, though. I'm still hoping they didn't have backups."

"If you could load this time-release program onto a floppy disk, I could arrange for it to find it's way into a computer they don't know about."

"Why are you helping me?" Alex demanded.

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah."

"OK. You're blackmailing the Consortium, and you're having my baby."

"Our baby," Alex corrected.

"The 'our' was implied."

"Do you trust me?"

"No," Mulder said, firmly. You want to though, thought Krycek.

"What do you think the baby is?"

"Human, thank god?" guessed Mulder.

"I meant do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

"I think it's a boy," said Mulder.

"How come?"

"I was on a case, and a witch asked me if I had a son."

"What did you tell her?"

"I said, 'maybe... why?'."

"Only you," smirked Krycek, "-I think she was right, though."

"Why's that?"

"Well, neither of US is a girl."

"I don't know if DNA works that way."

"DNA isn't supposed to work this way, period," Mulder took a look at the clock, and started using the sleeve of his jacket to de-fog the windows.

"Let's get back on the road."

* * *

About four hours later, Alex told him to start looking for a turn-off.

"Why?"

"Because you're tired, and I could use a pit stop."

"What does me being tired have to do with it?"

"You're fully capable of falling asleep at the wheel, and I don't want to be in the same car with you when you do."

"I'll get a cup of coffee," said Mulder. He turned off, and stopped at a Shell station. When Alex got back from the bathroom, Mulder was topping off the gas tank. A white paper coffee cup with the words 'Maxwell House' printed on the side of it in blue ink was perched on top of the pump. A curl of steam escaped slowly from beneath the cup's plastic lid. The pump stopped with a click, and as Mulder looked down to the pump handle at the sound, his bangs fell foreword, obscuring his eyes. For a split second, it made him look about seventeen. Krycek wondered just how much of Mulder's innocence was left. Mulder believed, in a way few priests could boast of, in the existence of things Krycek had seen first hand. No one had asked Krycek to believe, they'd just shown him whatever they needed him to know. Mulder, for all that he had discovered, was still naive by contrast. Like hell he doesn't trust me, thought Alex. When they were back on the road, he got an idea.

"Mulder, I think we should give the baby a name."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"It'd make it easier to talk about."

"Maybe a name would be a good idea. I've been mentally referring to it as 'x'," Mulder was lying through his teeth.

"You really disappoint me sometimes."

"X the unknown. How can we give it a name until we know whether it's a boy or a girl?"

"Mulder, your name is Fox."

"Yes...?"

"And mine is Alex."

"Is that your real name?" Krycek sighed, considered.

"Yeah, that's my real first name, and you don't have to pretend to believe me when I say that."

"Maybe a person's true name is what people call them the most," philosophized Mulder.

"For your sake, I hope that's not true," smirked Alex.

"What do you want to call it?" asked Mulder. Caught flatfooted, Alex looked around the interior of the car stealthily, for inspiration. The coffee cup caught his eye.

"Max," he answered. A shadow of memory passed over Mulder's face, and Alex decided to find out why someday.

"Why Max?" asked Mulder.

"Well, it works for a boy or a girl, and it's short. People won't mis-spell it... it's the kind of name that you can yell at somebody and still leave them time to duck."

"Practical."

"It's even got your precious 'x' in it," Alex added.

"All of our names do. Have you noticed?"

"Maybe it's fate," Alex said, seriously. Mulder could take no more, and burst out laughing.

"Either that or Colombian supreme," he managed.

"I make good coffee," pointed out Alex.

"I like that name," Mulder chuckled.

* * *

The rendezvous with the gunmen went well, though they had to dissuade Frohicke from packing a taser. Alex was (much to his annoyance) code-named 'Bandit', and they parted company, Krycek taking up residence with the gunmen. Mulder didn't really want to leave, though rationally he knew that staying there would only attract unwanted attention. He covered his unease with a Mona Lisa smile, and a

"See you around, Alex," thrown over his shoulder after taking his leave of the gunmen. Alex wasn't fooled for a minute. As Mulder's car was driving away, Langley asked,

"Why are you smiling?"

"It's just funny how things turn out," Krycek shrugged, inscrutably.

"Uh-huh," Frohicke concurred, suspiciously.

"We should get inside," said Byres.

* * *

Mulder's apartment, December 24, 1998.

"Hi," Krycek stood there like the time since he'd been here last had never happened. "Can I come in?" Mulder hesitated, then nodded.

"Shut the door," Alex did this, then took a seat on the couch, "-have you gotten the Consortium off your back?" Mulder asked.

"Yeah. Apparently the Englishman was none too happy about telling his associates he had screwed up and lost the lab data. When the whole thing came out, they had to deal."

"Are you still wanted by the FBI?"

"No, they fixed that up, too."

"So far, so good," said Mulder, noncommittally. "-So... why are you here?"

"I thought you'd want to know," ...and I think you wanted to see me again, too.

"I did. Thank you," Green eyes studied hazel. "-Are you still staying with the lone gunmen?"

"No. Your friends are great, Mulder, but they can be a bit much."

"How did you get here?"

"I took the bus. Nobody gives a damn what I do anymore, as long as I don't broad-band that disk."

"That must be convenient."

"More than you'll ever know," Krycek asserted.

"How's Max?"

"Scully didn't tell you? I thought she would."

"Why? What happened?" asked Mulder, concerned.

"She did a sonogram last week. Max is a boy, by the way. I asked her not to tell you about it. -I wanted to tell you myself."

"Is he okay?"

"He's perfect, Mulder." the pride in Krycek's voice was unmistakable. "Everything's exactly like it's supposed to be. He's... He's beautiful," Mulder was incredibly relieved to hear this. He had been- -and was still somewhat, concerned that there would be something wrong with Max. He knew that the gene splicing techniques used in creating him were not necessarily sound, especially with the Consortium doing the splicing. Then again, the Consortium wasn't known for it's toleration of incompetents, either. There was hope in that direction.

"What else?" asked Mulder, enthralled.

"Max moves a lot. He sucks his hand sometimes, and uh, he does this thing with his shoulders, like a shrug. I brought the tape, if you want to see."

"Since when have I been one to turn down a videotape?" grinned Mulder.

"Not lately, according to Frohicke."

"Hand it over."

* * *

Scully called later that day. She had been half expecting Mulder to call her, but as he was fond of pointing out on and around December 24th, he was (if anything) Jewish.

"Mulder."

"Hi Mulder, it's me."

"Scully! Where are you?"

"I'm at my brother's house. You're in a good mood."

"Guess who came home for Christmas?"

"Krycek."

"Jeopardy, here we come. Yeah, he worked out a deal to give the consortium back their files."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It wasn't my call, Scully."

There was a pause.

"How is he?" Scully asked.

"He seems okay. I doubt a week changed much."

"Mulder, are you mad that I didn't tell you about the sonogram?"

"...It was a surprise."

"I thought you might want to hear it from him."

"Why's that?"

"Well, he's the one who's actually having your baby."

"I want to hear it from you now," Mulder told her, "-was Max really okay?"

"As far as I could tell, he was completely normal."

"And you're still sure he belongs to Alex and me?"

"You're normal too, physically."

"Just checking. Do you want to come over sometime?"

"I think I need to be with my family over Christmas, but after that, sure."

"Do you want to talk to Alex?"

"Ah... no."

"Okay. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Merry Christmas, Mulder."

"I'm not-"

"I know, but maybe Krycek is. You have a family to be with over the holidays too, now."

"You're right. I hadn't thought about it that way before."

"How does it feel?"

"I'll let you know."

* * *

In the glow of the new brass lamp on his desk, the Englishman sipped his tea pensively. His companion watched him impassively from a large maroon leather chair on the other side of the desk, and lit a cigarette. The deep carpet beneath their feet did an admirable job of muffling all white noise, and when the Englishman set his teacup down, the sound of the china was sharp. The smoking man took a measured drag on his cigarette, then held it between his fingers, and blew the smoke towards the ceiling, slowly.

"Have Mulder and Krycek become allies?" he asked.

"I dare say they have," the Englishman replied, dryly, "-and you know very well what I think of the wisdom of allowing THAT to happen."

"I'm aware of your opinion," said the smoking man, "-what of the child?"

"There have been no unforeseen complications. My source informs me that they are planning to name him Max," The Englishman told him, neutrally. The smoking man nodded once, and puffed on his cigarette.

"Then we can continue with the plan," Smoke curled out from between his lips, and drifted up towards the shadowed ceiling.

* * *

/END/


End file.
